A Second Klaine Summer
by nothingbutgoneness
Summary: Follow Kurt and Blaine as they navigate their second summer as a couple in this series of angsty, fluffy, slightly smutty one-shots. Sequel to A Very Klaine Summer, but can be read alone. Also on Scarves & Coffee. TUMBLRS ARE nothingbutgoneness and kqwriting.
1. The News

**The News**

The heady scent of dusty books swirled through the thick early summer air. The sound of pressing silence matched this tension, but the overall ambience was easy concentration. A pen scratching against paper, a sniffle, the occasional swish of a turning page, the thud of a textbook—only these marred that beautiful silence, and it was glorious. Every now and then he would unconsciously run his palm over the smooth wood of the table upon which his many study materials were laid.

A tinkling bell heralded the arrival of a second person, but the first was so engrossed in his work that he failed to notice the sound. Nearly silent footsteps, and then a soft, deadened voice: "Blaine?"

The studying boy looked up in surprise; it wasn't often that he had company at the Lima Public Library—in fact, he wasn't sure if anyone actually worked there. His expression of shock was quickly replaced by one of joyful recognition. "Kurt!" Recognition soon gave way to concern. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

To Blaine, it was as if some force had removed the essence of Kurt and left an empty eighteen-year-old body in its wake. The normally sparkling glasz eyes that burned with fire and passion and life were a cold, icy blue. The glowing pale skin that glimmered and begged for the touch of Blaine's far rougher fingertips was pallid and dull. The thick chestnut locks that were always both impeccably styled and beautifully careless hung limp and sad.

"Kurt," Blaine choked, shocked and disturbed by his boyfriend's drastically uncharacteristic appearance. He immediately abandoned his Italian workbook and strode to Kurt, who buried his face in the younger boy's shoulder. Blaine gripped him tightly, fully prepared for the onslaught of tears, but none came. Kurt was simply...lifeless.

Leaning back so his shoulders rested against a bookcase, Blaine rubbed his hands soothingly up and down Kurt's back, now thoroughly bewildered by the older boy's behavior. "Kurt," he whispered softly. "Love, talk to me. You're scaring the crap out of me. Please let me in."

Instead of answering, Kurt pulled away from Blaine robotically. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and retrieved a crumpled envelope. He wordlessly passed it to Blaine and then collapsed in the chair Blaine had been working in earlier. Confused, Blaine inspected the envelope, heart sinking when recognized the return label.

_NYADA._

_Kurt didn't get in._

"Oh." Blaine sank to his knees beside Kurt's chair, tossing the envelope aside and gathering the broken boy's hands in his own. "Oh, Kurt, don't worry about this, okay? This is nothing. You're too good for NYADA. If they don't want you, screw 'em! You don't want them!"

"What do I do?" Kurt's voice was flat, void of all life and hope. "It's too late to apply anywhere else—not that I'd get in anyway. I'm stuck here, Blaine. I swore I was going to get out of here, but I put all my bets on NYADA, and they realized that I wasn't good enough."

"Now wait just one min—"

"Rachel got in." That bit of news was enough to freeze Blaine's heated rebuttal of Kurt's self-deprecation. "She screwed up her audition and stalked Ms. Tibideaux and she still got in. I don't get it, Blaine. I aced that audition, I know I did. What's wrong with me?" He finally removed his gaze from the tabletop and affixed it on his boyfriend. His eyes were now overflowing with tears, and his voice shook as he continued. "Why am I never good enough? I wasn't good enough for Tony, I wasn't good enough for class president...I'm so happy for Rachel, I really am, but why does she get everything in life? Can't I win, just once? What do I have to do to be good enough?" He threw himself into Blaine's surprised but welcoming arms. "When am I ever going to get it right?"

Blaine gently rocked Kurt back and forth on the Lima Public Library floor, right in the 450 section. He let the distraught boy sob and scream and rage and do whatever he needed, all the while whispering small words of comfort like _I love you so much _and _you're perfect _and _you're more than good enough for me_. A thousand plans and schemes and possibilities raced through his mind, each more unlikely than the next. One thing was for certain, however: Kurt was going to New York come fall, if Blaine had to carry him there himself.

When Kurt's cries started to quiet, Blaine gently eased the graduate back and looked into his eyes. The deadness was gone, replaced by a sheer devastation that shattered Blaine's heart all over again. "Kurt..." Blaine's voice broke, so he swallowed and tried again. "Kurt, I don't know what to say. I wish I had some plan to fix this, to make everything better, to make you stop looking so _broken_, but I don't, and I'm sorry. All I can offer is an unconditional _I love you_, a promise that whether you're the next Andrew Garfield or whether we end up in a cardboard box begging for change, I don't care. I love you now and I'll love you then and I'll love you always."

"Just like _The Notebook_?" Kurt whispered, resting his forehead against Blaine's.

"Just like _The Notebook_." Blaine kissed Kurt's nose. "Are you going to be okay?" The older boy nodded in reply. "Good. You know what this situation needs? _Cheesecake._"

Kurt laughed softly. "I knew there was a reason I keep you around."

"It isn't for my dapped good looks?" Blaine asked in mock outrage.

"Mm, definitely not." Kurt kissed him tenderly. "Thank you for being here."

"Any time."

For the first time, Kurt glanced around and fully recognized their surroundings. "Wow, sorry, I guess you were studying—"

"Don't worry about it. I was trying to play the good student and study really hard for my Italian final, but honestly, the exams at McKinley aren't nearly as difficult as those at Dalton."

"True." Kurt stood and straightened his outfit. "I believe I was promised a cheesecake." He held out a hand to pull his boyfriend to his feet.

"Not a _whole_ cheesecake," Blaine clarified. "I've been in here for hours. I need junk food too."

"Think again, Bowtie Boy." The two quickly packed away Blaine's study material, and then walked arm-in-arm out of the library to Kurt's Navigator.

Before circling around to the passenger side of the truck, Blaine pulled Kurt in for a searing kiss. "It's going to be a good summer."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

Hello, and welcome to _A Second Klaine Summer_! If you're new to my writing, welcome, and if you're coming to me from _A Very Klaine Summer _or one of my other fics, welcome back! Here's the down-low on this fic: ASKS is a sequel to AVKS, but you need not have read the latter to understand the former. Like AVKS, ASKS is going to be a series of one-shots chronicling the boys' summer together, only this time, we'll be looking at summer 2012 instead of summer 2011. I have no set update schedule; I write when I get the muse, and update accordingly. So if you don't hear from me for months, or I post several chapters in a day, you've just gotta go with the flow._  
_

I run on prompts. I need your ideas for chapters, because I only have so many, and I'd like to keep this story going for as long as possible. If you have an adventure you'd like our favorite ship to go on, please send to me in a review or a PM, or you can message me on Tumblr (URLs below). You'll get a shout-out at the end of the chapter you prompt. That being said, I do my utmost to keep each chapter unique, so if you see an idea's already been used, please don't prompt it again. _This goes for both ASKS and AVKS. _Like I said before, you needn't have read AVKS to understand this story, but if you're going to prompt something for ASKS, make sure I didn't already write it in the prequel. This means, for example, that I don't want prompts about swimming or county fairs or Katy Perry concerts, because I've already done those. If you prompted me something for AVKS and I never wrote it, _don't worry. _I'll do it here instead!

Another difference between AVKS and ASKS: StarKid references. I am an avid StarKid fan, but I'm actively working on maturing my writing, so you can pretty much say goodbye to StarKid references, and the virtual bear hugs that were awarded to those who identified them. (However, if I make one accidentally, feel free to point it out and amuse me!)

I'd also like you to know that I respond to each and every review I receive (unless it was given anonymously or the reviewer disabled private messaging). You took the time out of your day to not only read my story but also respond to it, so the least I could do is say thanks back. That being said, I'm never going to beg you for reviews, because, honestly, it's just a number, with the exception of times at which I get low on prompts-then I'm going to hound the shit out of you for them.

Alright, I think that's all the business I have for you today. Just know that this story will also be posted on Scarves & Coffee (pen name Klainebows and Quirrelmort), and on my Tumblrs. Have a great day, and I hope you enjoy _A Second Klaine Summer_!

**PERSONAL TUMBLR: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
**FANFICTION TUMBLR: **kqwriting [This Tumblr is devoted to fanfiction, both fics I write and fics I recommend/reblog. I'll also post any news updates on this and other fics if need be. Honestly, if you follow either one of my two blogs, this one's less fun but more fic-y, so...]


	2. The Show

**The Show**

He parked his car down the street from his boyfriend's house, not wanting to alert the other boy of his arrival. He stepped out and closed the door quietly, retrieving a package and a large basket from the back seat. He walked the few hundred yards to the house, peeking through the front window surreptitiously to determine the boy's whereabouts. He spotted him on the couch, watching television. He padded silently to the front door, easing the key he'd been given into the lock and thanking his lucky stars that it didn't make a sound. The opening of the door also went unheard below the noise from the television. His slipped out of his shoes so they wouldn't make a sound against the hardwood floors, and then he tiptoed through the foyer and into the living room.

What he saw made his jaw drop. There, on the couch, sat his boyfriend, cuddled under a blanket and clutching a teddy bear to his chest. A small pile of tissues cluttered the coffee table in front of him. On the large television he faced, a show that the intruder didn't recognize was playing, but considering the two characters the camera kept switching two were both crying, he could guess it was sad.

"I—I love you," the British blonde on screen cried, voice breaking and mascara running.

"Quite right, too," the (ridiculously handsome and also British) man replied. "And I suppose, if it's my last chance to say it...Rose Tyler..." And then he disappeared.

"What the hell kind of show is this?" Oops. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

The boy on the couch whipped around with a yelp. "Kurt!" Blaine grabbed the Wii remote sitting beside him and pressed the pause button. "What—what are you doing here?" The younger boy quickly tried to wipe away the obvious tears on his face, sniffling slightly.

Kurt was torn between comforting his boyfriend and bursting out laughing at his completely adorable state. Blaine's clothes were rumpled, clearly slept-in pajamas, and his curls were askew. His nose was running and his eyes were puffy. Kurt settled for a small smile as he walked around to sit beside his boyfriend. "Come here baby." He opened his arms, and the shorter boy fell into them immediately.

"Sorry I'm being so silly," Blaine mumbled.

"Nonsense." Kurt rubbed his hands up and down his boyfriend's back. "Remember that time Sabrina got kicked off _Dancing With the Stars_? We didn't know each other then, but I cried for _days_."

"It's just...Rose and the Doctor...they're so meant to be...and now Rose is trapped in a parallel universe, never to see him again..."

Kurt bit his lip, trying not to chuckle at the endearing tremor in Blaine's voice. "Is this _Doctor Who_?" Blaine nodded. "I've never watched that show, but judging by the way that girl completely let her make-up go, I certainly believed they were meant to be."

Blaine tilted his head up and smiled. "Like us?"

"Like us." Kurt leaned down and kissed Blaine's lips lightly. "Now, had I known it was going to be a watch-sad-TV-shows-and-sob kind of day, I would have worn far comfier clothes and brought more caloric food."

"Food?" Blaine sat up, looking around. "What food?"

Kurt stood, retrieved the basket and box from where he left them in the doorway to the living room, and returned to the couch. "Well, you've been so supportive of me these past few days, what with school ending and not getting into NYADA and being generally dramatic about everything, so I wanted to make sure that you know that that did not go unnoticed or unappreciated, and that I love you so very very much for it." He handed Blaine the package wrapped in shiny blue paper. "Go on! Open it!"

Blaine was on the verge of tears again. "Kurt...you didn't have to...to get me anything! I'm here for you because I love you. That's all."

Voice soft, Kurt replied, "I know that, silly. And I'm not giving you this because I feel like I have to pay you for being an awesome boyfriend. You're an awesome boyfriend, I'm an awesome boyfriend, and this is what awesome boyfriends do for each other. Now shut up and open it."

The package was small, a little larger than Blaine's open hand, and flat. Blaine carefully peeled back the wrapped paper, slid out the white box, and lifted the lid. Inside lay a bright pink bow tie covered in silver disco balls. Blaine snorted appreciatively. "Kurt, this is the most adorable thing." He smiled at his boyfriend, muttering a low thanks before kissing him enthusiastically.

When they broke apart, Kurt grinned. "I'm not done!" He lifted the basket from the floor. "I was _going _to suggest a picnic lunch outside, _but..._" He stood and pushed the coffee table to one side of the living room. He then reached into the picnic basket and extracted a red-and-white checkered blanket, shaking it open so it covered the rug. "We're going to eat inside, and you're going to explain _Doctor Who _to me."

Kurt's near-future confusion was absolutely worth the look of pure adoration in Blaine's eyes. The younger boy leapt from the couch, grabbed Kurt, and spun him around, eliciting a shriek from him. "Kurt, this is, like, the most romantic thing you've ever done. I know you find some of the shows I watch nerdy, but—"

"Doesn't matter. I _like _the nerdy things about you." He tapped Blaine's nose. "Now come on, sit down. I made wraps and tuna salad, and I want to understand what all this Doctor fuss is about."

Blaine quickly made himself comfortable on the floor. He fixed a plate of food and immediately launched into a lecture on the intricate details of the BBC show. Kurt didn't follow half of it, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the light that danced in Blaine's wide hazel eyes and the fervor with which he spoke with both his mouth and his hands and the smile that never left his face. Yes, there was no doubt in Kurt's mind that his confusion was definitely worth Blaine's excitement.

* * *

Welcome back! I have to start this A/N with an apology to Alison. I know I told you that your prompt was coming next, but then I got this really awesome idea that I had to write down, which I did, but then that idea sparked _this _idea, so I had to write this down too. So your prompt will be chapter four. Also I love you.

Second, thanks to everyone who reviewed (and favorited and followed this story because of) chapter one, and especially those who reviewed with a prompt. All of your prompts have been added to my Super Awesome Secret List of Magical Prompts (and by secret I mean in my Notes on my iPod), and I will write them eventually.

So...I like _Doctor Who_. We have Tumblr to blame for this, especially Alison. (It's always you.) I just finished _The Waters of Mars_, and I'm too scared to watch the next two, because I know they're David Tennant's last, and I'm just not in an emotional state in which I can handle that right now. So. Yeah.

_DENIAL!_

Keep the prompts coming, and don't forget that this story can also be found on Scarves & Coffee and both my Tumblrs!

**PERSONAL TUMBLR: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
**FANFICTION TUMBLR: **kqwriting


	3. The Party

**The Party**

The clock had yet to strike midnight, and already the majority of his houseguests were exceptionally inebriated. His basement was littered with Solo cups and bottle caps, and a playlist of pop music blared from the state-of-the-art surround-sound stereo speakers. The air was perfumed with alcohol and fruit and sweat and what he prayed wasn't sex or vomit.

He loved these friends, he really did, which is why he offered his home for the location of the end-of-the-year/graduation New Directions party, despite his better judgment. He even suggested they all sleep over, given that his parents were on their annual vacation to Antigua. He didn't even complain when Puck broke into his father's liquor cabinet, knowing that the older boy always made good on his promise to refill. (He even took pictures of the level of liquid in each bottle in order to empty the new ones accordingly.)

This love did not, however, extend to Santana climbing onto the coffee table and yelling, "NEVER HAVE I EVER! CIRCLE UP BITCHES!" He knew exactly what this game entailed, and did not look forward to revealing any information. His and his boyfriend's sex life was theirs and theirs alone. No one else had the right to be privy to that knowledge.

His boyfriend, it seemed, did not share his concerns, as he tugged him by the hand to the circle of sloppy teenagers in the middle of the basement floor. The older boy collapsed next to Quinn, who laughed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Alright," Santana yelled, "this is how we play. Everyone take a shot glass—" Puck passed them around. "—and spread out the vodka. Some of us are going to have to refill fast." She winked at Brittany, who had shed her top to reveal a leopard print bra within moments of her arrival. "We go around the circle and say something we've never done. Everyone who _has _done that thing, take a shot. Let's keep this at least PG-thirteen, okay? No pussyin' out on me. I'm talking to you, Hart." She pointed at the dreadlocked boy, who was completely sober and looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Imma start!" Sugar shouted, raising her glass. "Never have I ever had sex with a girl!"

While Puck, Finn, Sam, Mike, Santana, Brittany, and Artie drank, Blaine leaned over to his far drunker boyfriend and whispered, "Are you sure you want to play this game? Our business is our business. They shouldn't kn—"

"_Blaine_," Kurt whined, falling over the younger boy in an attempted hug. "Of _course_ we should play. They think we're prudes. They should know _exactly_ how many times I've—"

"Okay!" Blaine clapped a hand over Kurt's mouth. "I guess we're playing."

Rory was next. "Never have I ever seen a girl naked. In person!" He tacked on quickly.

The same people drank as the round before, in addition to Quinn. At the raised eyebrows, Quinn clarified, "Locker room. Cheerios. Lots of naked girls." All of the boys save Joe, Kurt, and Blaine looked envious.

It was Artie's turn. "Never have I ever had a penis in my mouth."

Santana, Kurt, Blaine, Brittany, and Puck drank. "Before you ask," the latter yelled, "everyone's gotta pay their dues in juvie."

"Let's talk about my boy Kurt" Mercedes winked his way, and he giggled.

"Gross," Finn groaned. "That's my brother."

"Blaine's turn," Santana said. Everyone turned his way, and his face immediately flushed. He didn't want to let everyone in on this side of his life—that was for Kurt only.

"Never have I ever kissed a girl besides Brittany," he supplied lamely. Santana tutted, but drank with Brittany and all the other boys.

When it was Kurt's turn, he thought for a long time. "Never have I ever...given head in the choir room!"

With a groan, Blaine dropped his head in his hands. "_Kurt_, really?" He lifted his glass, wincing at the burn and earning wolf-whistles and catcalls from many of his friends.

"Dude!" Finn sounded scandalized. "We have class there!"

"Just don't tell Brad to inspect the piano under a black light," Kurt slurred. A hole could not open up under Blaine fast enough.

"Hudson, if you're going to keep bitching every time you find out something new about your brother's apparently kinky sex life, you can leave," Santana snapped. "Fabray, go."

"Never have I ever had sex and not gotten pregnant."

Puck snorted into his drink. Santana, Brittany, Mike, Tina, Sam, Kurt, Blaine, Artie, Mercedes, and Finn all drank.

"WAIT!" Kurt screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at Mercedes. "When did this happen and why was I not notified immediately?"

Mercedes tried to look sheepish, but her smirk gave her away. "I'm sorry, baby. I was going to tell you, I swear!"

Kurt lowered his finger, eyes narrowed. "You better hope I'm too drunk to remember this in the morning, 'cause if not, I'll be pissed."

Finn's turn. "Wait...I can't talk about Rachel, she's in New York."

"Suck it up, Finn," Kurt said. Blaine wrapped his arms around him in concern. His boyfriend was unbelievably hammered at this point, and he didn't want the older boy doing or saying something he might regret in the morning—or worse, dying of alcohol poisoning. He himself had severely limited his alcohol intake all night long, knowing full well the poison's disastrous effects on his inhibitions.

"Fine," Finn retorted. "Never have I ever gotten head at school." Kurt, Puck, Mike, and Artie drank.

"Never have I ever had sex," Joe said bluntly. Everyone save Sugar and Rory drank.

The game continued, and details were revealed that astonished everyone: Finn and Rachel had sex, Sugar had paid a kid to make out with her, Tina and Mike had considered participating in a foursome, Santana had slept with not one but two teachers, Joe of all people had gotten an erection in a public place. (For some reason everyone was too drunk to figure out, Quinn blushed violently when the latter was disclosed.)

Everyone was most surprised, however, to discover just how sexually active Kurt and Blaine, two normally prudish boys, were. They'd had sex at school, in both of their cars, on Kurt's kitchen table—"Dude, we _eat _there!"—in the shower, in a field, and, much to Finn's horror, in Finn's bed. ("You assholes!" "Calm down, we got lost. And we changed the sheets.") Only Kurt had gotten a blow job at school, but both had received hand jobs, especially in the boys' locker room showers. They'd roleplayed, experimented with bondage, used dirty talk, and tried domination. They'd worn special outfits and lingerie and used sex toys. They'd had sex in any number of positions, including 69, doggie-style, back-to-front, and bent over a table.

By the end of the game—most of the players had passed out—Santana's jaw seemed permanently dropped. "You guys are kinky sons of bitches."

Blaine looked down fondly at the unconscious boy cradled in his lap. "Yeah. But it's all about the love. That's what's really important." Santana's eyes began watering, and he could tell weepy-girl drunk was coming. He decided to avoid the flood by putting his boyfriend to bed. He asked Joe to turn off the stereo and make sure no one choked to death on their own vomit, and then he lifted Kurt in his arms and carried his limp and snoring body up four flights of stairs to his bedroom, staggering through his own drunkenness. He changed them into pajamas and set out aspirin and water for the both of them for later. He then pulled the covers over their bodies and snuggled close to Kurt.

"I love you," he whispered into the taller boy's hair. "I love you so much, my lovely, kinky prince."

* * *

Two updates in one night? _WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT? _'Tis true my friends. This idea just popped into my head, and...yeah, this happened. I don't even know anymore.

So, not much else to say right now, except I love you, I want your prompts, and my Tumblrs are below! Peace out home skillets!

**PERSONAL BLOG: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
**FANFICTION BLOG: **kqwriting


	4. The Swings

**The Swings**

It was late, or early, depending on one's concept of time, and he was awake. He lay stretched out on his bare stomach, edge of the sheet tickling the small of his back. He rested his head on his crossed arms and smiled at the deeply slumbering boy beside him. It was a wonder he wasn't equally as exhausted; after all, the activity they'd engaged in not half an hour earlier was quite draining. But it seemed that the lightly snoring boy's power of captivation was superior to those of fatigue.

The bedroom window was cracked, the early summer night air cooling the passionately heated room. The breeze tickled their thoroughly tousled hair, and his smile grew fonder as his lover's nose wrinkled at the sensation. The sleeping boy then sighed and rolled over, obscuring the onlooker's view of his face.

Suddenly, the observer had an overwhelming desire to look at the stars. The urge was one he often felt when he was in a state of utter contentment, a state in which he found himself frequently as of late. This urge created a dilemma: he could stay here, lay with his love, and let his mind burn with the intensity of the stars above, or he could leave the bed, clear his mind, and risk his lover awakening alone.

He carefully slid from between the sheets, not wanting to disturb his bedmate. He donned a McKinley t-shirt and an old pair of sweatpants, not caring much for fashion at the moment, slipping his cell phone into his pocket. He crossed to his desk, scribbled a quick but affectionate note, and placed it on his discarded pillow. He then silently left the room, stopping to step into flip-flops on his way out the door.

* * *

There was something about swings that made everything in the world seem so much simpler. When he rounded the corner that brought him to the neighborhood park, he bypassed the jungle gym, the merry-go-round, and the seesaw, instead strolling straight for the swings. He sat down, arms automatically twisting in the chains. Toes dragging in the sand, sandals long forgotten, he rocked gently back and forth, neck craned skyward.

The heavens above were clear, not a single cloud to mar the black canvas sprinkled with clusters of white dots. He couldn't identify any constellations save one of the dippers, but that was irrelevant. It was what the stars _meant,_ not what they were or how they were arranged, that struck him. How, in an infinite universe with infinite substances in infinite combinations, he was there, on that swingset, in that playground, on that night, with that boy in his bed. What had he done? What good deed had he done in what past life that could cause his proverbial stars to align so perfectly in this moment? With a small laugh, he shook his head; who was he to question this gift given to him?

"What's so funny?"

His head turned sharply, but his smile never faltered. "Nothing." He returned his gaze to the heavens. "Nothing at all."

He tried to focus on the stars, but with the sudden addition of the other boy's presence, the twinkling lights above could no longer hold his attention. He turned again in time to see his lover take the swing next to his. "How long have you been up?"

"Not too long." The boy pulled a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of the sweats the first boy recognized as his own. "'Dear Kurt, I've gone to the playground on Baker Street for some stargazing, so don't worry, I haven't left you. If you awaken before I return, I'm sorry I wasn't there to hear the little squeak you make when you rub your eyes.' I do _not _squeak, Anderson." He shoved Blaine lightly, and then resumed his reading of the note. "'You are more than welcome to join me, or you could go back to sleep. Either way, just know that I will be returning to you shortly, for how could I stay away from such a beautiful sight for long? For always and ever, Blaine.' Honestly, who writes like that?"

Blaine chuckled. "Excuse me for being romantic."

"No, I loved it." Kurt folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. He then wound his own arms through the swing chains and began rocking to and fro. "So, have you gleaned anything from the heavens yet? The meaning of life? The secret of the dead? The reason _Queer Eye _got cancelled?"

"Oh, too soon," Blaine joked. He glanced upward. "No, no answers. Just...more to fathom."

Kurt reached out, grabbed the chain of Blaine's swing, and pulled him close, threading his arm around the links to keep him there. "Stop being so deep. It's far too early for that."

"Do you think we'll make it?" Kurt looked over in surprise at Blaine's murmured question. "Do you think, will all of the millions of variables we'll encounter, that we'll still be together in five, ten, fifty years? 'Cause sitting here, looking at the stars...I can't imagine a life without you, Kurt. And I really, really don't want to."

Kurt was speechless. He was no stranger to doubts about the future, even the one with Blaine. The letdown that was his NYADA letter brought many of these uncertainties to the forefront of his mind, but he knew, deep down, that Blaine wasn't going to leave him, despite his failure. He just knew that he'd be there, for always and ever.

"We're a constant." Blaine turned to him, brows furrowed in confusion, so he elaborated. "You asked how millions of variables will affect us, but they won't. Because we're a constant. We will remain unchanged throughout all of time and space."

The two swung in silence for some time, alternately staring upward at the glimmering lights and catching sneak peeks at the other's face. Eventually, Blaine wordlessly slipped off of the swing and extended a hand to Kurt. The older boy took it, and the two walked arm-in-arm back to Blaine's empty house.

"I wasn't lying, you know," Blaine said as they shed their clothes and slid back under the covers. "I wasn't lying when I wrote 'for always and ever.'"

"I know you weren't." Kurt snuggled into Blaine's open arms, breathing in the scent of summer and their earlier activities. "I love you too."

"For always and ever?"

"For always and ever."

They slept.

* * *

Words cannot describe how much this story is dedicated to SeptemberLoveStory. This wonderful girl, my muse, prompted this, and, as promised, it is the fourth chapter. This was originally going to be a Blangsty fic about Blaine's dad, but tonight, I got a brain blast, and you got this. I hope you enjoyed it, because I did.

Of course, it would have gone more smoothly if I wasn't messaging someone every other sentence. But it was worth it for this conversation:

**Me: **SHIT JUST GOT REAL.  
**Me: **OMFG.  
**Me: **IS IT TOO EARLY TO KILL PEOPLE OFF?  
(later)  
**Alison: **WHO'D YOU KILL?

I love fucking with you, girl.

Well, not literally fucking.

Though I bet that'd be fun, too. ;)

ANYWAY, it's four-thirty here, and my mom'll be up any minute, and I haven't slept yet, so I have to scram! See you lovelies later!

**PERSONAL TUMBLR: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
**FANFICTION TUMBLR: **kqwriting


	5. The Code

**The Code**

_(The following message is written in a secret code. You must decipher the code using only the tools available to you. I leave you with only one clue: __**left**__.)_

_Frst Lity._

_Yjr trsdpm yjod ,rddshr od etoyyrn om vpfr eo;; nrvp,r s[[strmy dppm/ _

_Dp O esd doyyomh pm ,u nrf. s;pmr. ejrm ejp djpi;f [p[ omyp ,u jrsf niy ,u imgso;u drcu npugtormf/ Smf O tr,r,nrtrd yjsy yjod imsot;u drcu npugtormf eo;; nr ;rsbomh ,r gpt yjr Noh S[[;r dppm rmpihj )fp mpy frmu oy_ smf O eoll nr s;; s;pmr/ _

_Niy yjrm O yjpihjy. ejrm ,u npugtormf od pgg ti;omh yjr voyu. ejp od hpomh yp yslr vstr pg jom1 Ejp4d hpomh yp ;or eoyj jom sy mohjy. yslr jod yjtpnnomh rtrvyopm smf ;ovl s htrsy noh dyto[r i[ oy og O vsm4y nr yjrtr1 Ejp4d hpomh yp rc[;ptr rbrtu omvj pg jod d,ppyj. [rtgrvy dlom. s;; tps,omh jsmfd smf vitopid ypmgird. imyo; jr4d nrhhomh gpt tr;rsdr1 Ejp4d hpomh yp dytryvj jo, p[rm. joy yjsy derry d[py. ,slr jo, vtu piy om rvdysdu smf tr;rsdr dp jstf jr [sddrd piy1_

_Ejp od hpomh yp fp yjrdr yjomhs gpt upi og O vsm1y nr yjrtr yp fp yjr,1_

_Dp O frvofrf yp gpthry snpiy yjr giyitr smf epttu snpiy yjr mpe/ Smf tohjy mpe. O4, ;uomh pm ,u nrf. gi;;u=jstf vpvl om jsmf. esoyomh gpt ,u imgso;u drcu npugtormf yp vp,r smf fp dp,ryjomh snpiy oy/_

_u [strmyd epm4y nr jpmr imyo; yp,pttpe mohjy/ :ry4d jp[r upi frvo[jrt yjod nu yjrm/_

_S;; ,u ;pbr.  
N;somr _

He started at the screen for the longest time. Was he drunk? Hallucinating? Finally feeling the effects of one too many shoves into a locker? What the hell was this?

_The following message is written in a secret code. _Brilliant. Just what he needed. He loved his boyfriend, he really did, but sometimes his herculean efforts at romance were a little...over the top.

He leaned back in his desk chair, puzzled. He turned his head in various directions, hoping that the letters formed a picture when viewed from the side. Nope. He copied and pasted different lines and entered them into a Google search, but to no avail. He tried letter replacement, but it didn't get him far enough.

He was stuck.

He considered phoning his boyfriend and demanding an explanation, but that was akin to admitting defeat, which he never, _ever _did. So, with a huff, he abandoned the computer, email still onscreen, and collapsed on his bed with a groan.

A few minutes passed, and someone knocked on his door. "You okay, bro?"

He removed his face from the comforter and glared up at his stepbrother. "No. My boyfriend's being a jerk."

Finn looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Oh. Should I...like...beat him up or something, or...?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and hauled himself off of the bed. "No. It's just, he sent me this email, this _encoded _email, and I have no idea what it says."

"Have you tried decoding it?" Finn actually backed up a few steps at the look on Kurt's face. "Okay, never mind. Here, let me look." The taller boy set his open bag of Doritos on Kurt's dresser and wiped his hands on his jeans, earning a mortified squawk from his stepbrother. He bent over the computer and examined the email. "Hm..." After a minute or so, Finn opened up a Word document and placed it side-by-side with the email. He began to type, and a coherent message took form.

_Dear Kurt, _

_The reason this message is written in code will become apparent soon._

Finn was only able to write a few more sentences before Kurt's face flushed and he grabbed the taller boy's hands. "Thank you, Finn!" he squeaked.

"But, dude, I'm not done—"

"Yes, yes you are!" Kurt stopped and took a deep breath. "Okay. Can you just explain to me how to decode this thing so I can finish it myself?"

"Uh, sure." Finn took a minute to explain the fairly simple process, and for a moment, Kurt just stared at him, dumbfounded. "What?"

"It's just...you thought you impregnated Quinn via hot tub. How did you solve this so quickly?"

Finn preened. "I like puzzles. But why don't you want me to finish this one for you?"

"Erm..." Kurt's face reddened even more. "I...it's just not an email I'd like members of my family to be reading, if you catch my drift." Judging by Finn's blank face, he didn't. "Honestly, how do you have such selective intelligence? It's a very _private _email, Finn, which is why it was written in code, so if you don't mind, your services have been much appreciated, but I think there's a hockey game on or something downstairs, so thank you, good day." He bodily shoved his stepbrother from the room and closed the door, ignoring Finn's shout of "But it's not even hockey season!"

Kurt returned to the computer and spent another five minutes decoding Blaine's email. By the end, the front of his skinny jeans was tented, and his heartbeat was far higher than normal.

He clicked reply and typed one sentence: _O4, vp,omh/_

With that, he grabbed his car keys, wallet, and phone, and was out the door.

* * *

Alright, where to begin with this one? This was prompted to me by someone who has prompted me many things in the past. I am not telling you this person's pen name, because I don't want you asking him or her how to solve the code. This person, if you're reading this, just know that I am extremely grateful for this prompt, and even though it was a bitch and a half to write, it was a lot of fun, too.

For the rest of you (Jesus, Alison, you're going to kill me), I'm not telling you what the entire email said! I gave you a clue, "left," and a partial translation. The first person to PM me (NOT IN A REVIEW, IN A PM) the entire thing decoded will have a special chapter written about anything they chose (with certain reservations, of course, I'm going to kill off anyone or anything). I apologize for the abundance of typos that are probably in that message, but it took me fucking FOREVER and it was really hard to type. But not that hard to decode, once you figure it out. ;)

Other than that...I don't have much for you! Except my parents are out of town for four days and I'm fucking STOKED.

Also, I just watched both _Iron Man _movies back-to-back, and RDJ is just...as;lfdja;sdlfkj. (That's a technical term.)

**PERSONAL TUMBLR: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
**FANFICTION TUMBLR: **kqwriting


	6. The Meeting

**The Meeting**

He was late. Tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, he glared up at the offending red light until it finally succumbed to his psychic demands and turned green. With slightly too much acceleration, he rounded the corner and pulled into the coffee shop lot, parking as quickly as possible. He didn't want to keep his boyfriend waiting any longer, and since they'd planned a full day of shopping, he was sure the other boy had already fuelled up with caffeine.

He hopped out of his car and hurried into the Lima Bean, mentally cursing the endless line that prevented him from seeing many tables. He pulled out his phone. _Hey, I'm here, trapped in the back of the line. Which table are you at?_

Several minutes later, the line had shortened significantly, but still no reply text. Finally he managed to gain a clear view of the entire cafe. He spotted his boyfriend quickly, at a table toward the back.

And he wasn't alone.

_Who's that guy? _He stared in shock at his boyfriend and the bubbly blonde with whom he was laughing. Before he knew it, Alison, the redheaded barista he'd befriended during his frequent trips to the Lima Bean, was pushing him his usual drink.

"Who's that?" she asked, jerking her head toward the table at which he could not stop staring.

"I don't know." He turned to pay her, but the barista shook him off. "It's on the house. Looks like you're gonna need it."

With mumbled thanks, he shuffled toward his boyfriend's table, feet moving as though caked in cement. After about a thousand years of watching this blonde flirt with his boyfriend, he reached the table, stopping just behind his lover's shoulder.

The blonde looked up in surprise. "Oh, this must be him!"

Kurt twisted his head quickly, smile lighting up his face. "Blaine! You made it!"

The boy in question nodded stiffly. "S-sorry I'm late, I just..." His explanation trailed off, his eyes still locked on the blonde's face. _Hipster glasses, really? They probably aren't even prescription_.

Kurt sensed Blaine's discomfort, so he gently tugged him into the empty chair beside his own. "Blaine," he said quietly, "this is Chandler."

Alarms immediately sounded in Blaine's head as his eyes blew wide. _Chandler Chandler Chandler. _So, this was him, the guy Kurt met at Between the Sheets—oh god, that name made everything sound so much worse—the guy who apparently would only have five cents if he received a nickel for every time he met someone as beautiful as Kurt.

_What a stupid line._

"Hey Blaine!" Chandler stuck out a hand, grinning broadly. "Kurt's told me so much about you!"

Blaine shook the proffered hand once. "That's..." _Creepy? Disturbing? Awkward, since he hasn't mentioned you in weeks? _He shot Kurt a look.

The older boy cleared his throat nervously. "Yes, well, Chandler saw me waiting for you, and we were just catching up." His eyes flickered between the other two boys as though following a tennis match.

"Yeah, we were laughing over some of the old texts I used to send him." Chandler's tone was light, but his eyes narrowed.

Blaine bristled. "Yeah, I read some of those. A little..._indecorous _to be sent to someone in a committed relationship, don't you think?"

"Yes, well, at the time I didn't know Kurt was in a committed relationship. It must have slipped his mind."

Kurt had to press a hand onto Blaine's knee to prevent the younger boy from jerking to his feet. "Okay, I think it's time we were going. Long day ahead and whatnot." He stood and offered his hand to Blaine. "Come on, sweetie. Those vests aren't going to sell themselves. Well, actually, they are, because god knows the sales staff at that place isn't up to par...coming?"

Blaine sat frozen for a long moment, openly glaring at Chandler. Then he leapt up, grabbed his boyfriend's face, and pulled him down for a searing, open-mouthed kiss. When he broke away some time later, Kurt's eyes were glazed over with dizzy lust, while Chandler's were narrowed even further. Blaine sent the blonde a final haughty smirk before wrapping his arm around Kurt's waist. "You're right, love. Let's go." As he led Kurt from the cafe, he caught Alison's eye; the redhead winked saucily at him.

It wasn't until they reached Kurt's Navigator, which they'd be sharing for their shopping trip, that the older boy regained his senses. When Blaine opened the car door for him, Kurt smacked his shoulder.

Blaine yelped. "What was that for?"

"You, being a possessive ass."

Blaine flinched under Kurt's glare, but straightened his shoulder defiantly. "You heard what he said. I was just reminding him of who you're really with, and that's not him." He dropped his gaze and grabbed Kurt's hand. "Look, I...I'm over the texting, I really am. I pushed you away, and I'm sorry. We talked, we made up, it's done. But actually _seeing _him...it reminded me that I almost lost you. And I overreacted." He blushed. "Sorry."

Kurt lifted Blaine's chin and kissed him lightly. "It's okay. To be honest, Angry Possessive Blaine? Kind of hot." Blaine winked, and Kurt laughed. "Come on, lover boy. If I don't find a vest to match that new jacket I'll never be able to wear it. Besides," he added as Blaine climbed into the passenger seat, "you have all day to remind me of who I'm with in the dressing room."

Kurt smirked at Blaine's pained groan as he pulled out of the parking lot. Yet, it was going to be a good day.

* * *

Quick little thing I wrote last night. (And by last night I mean in the wee hours of the morning.) Although, it would have been quicker if I wasn't stupid enough to start texting SOMEONE halfway through. (YOLO.)

I realized we never had a canon scene with Blaine and Chandler, and it was never confirmed if Chandler knew that Kurt was in a relationship, so I took it upon myself to write canon. Especially since RIB never seem to want to do it for us.

BUT THANK GOD FOR FANFICTION.

(Also, if you've been watching the Comic-Con footage, can we just slow-clap for Brad trying to pass of the lack of Klaine interaction as Kurt not liking PDA? And the Biggest Bullshit Award goes to...[_Modern Family._])

Congratulations to Gleekaramous (follow her on her Tumblr with that same URL!) for being the first person to send me a PM with the decoded message from the previous chapter! Honestly, so many of you figured it out...I felt like an idiot. It would have taken me ages. To see the fully decoded message, go to my writing blog (URL below) and add this to the end of the URL: ( / ) post ( / ) 27432454939 ( / ) a ( - ) second (- ) klaine ( - ) summer ( - ) chapter ( - ) five( - ) the ( - ) code ( - ) decoded

That's all I have to say for now. Note that I love you and can't wait until the next chapter!

**FANFICTION BLOG: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
**WRITING BLOG: **kqwriting


	7. The Garage

**WARNING: This chapter contains explicit sexual contact between two consenting males. If that's not your thing, you can skip down to the first break line (after the one below). The content from that line to the end is also M-rated, but much more mildly so and without and explicit sex acts. For an explanation of why this fic is still rated T, please see the A/N at the end of the fic.**

* * *

**The Garage**

"No."

"_Please?_"

"No."

"You know you want to..."

"Of course I want to, I'm a teenage boy, I always want—_ngh..._no...stop..."

"Come on. He said he'd be gone an hour and a half. That's plenty of time..."

"_Nghhh_, fine." With a growl, he spun in his boyfriend's arms, detaching the other boy's lips from the bruise they'd been sucking into his neck. "But you're cleaning the upholstery."

Kurt grinned. "After I finish the oil change." He grabbed Blaine by the collar of his polo and yanked him into a dirty kiss. He dragged him away from the open hood of the Toyota he'd been working on, wrenched the back door open, and unceremoniously shoved the younger boy inside.

"God, you're so lucky you're irresistible in those overalls," Blaine groaned as Kurt went back to work on the ridiculously large hickey he'd be sporting for at least a week. Kurt's hands, however, were fumbling desperately with the button of Blaine's too-short jeans, tugging the pants down fiercely when he succeeded in opening the fastening. His boxers were gone moments later, and Kurt's heated mouth abandoned Blaine's neck to wrap around his fully-erect cock. "Jesus Chr—" Blaine choked, head flying backward in ecstasy.

Kurt winked up at his wrecked boyfriend in satisfaction. It wasn't often Kurt was so..._aggressive _with his desires, but when he was, Blaine was often left in shambles. Kurt continued to work up and down Blaine's length, licking and sucking and blowing in the ways that elicited the most perfect noises from the writhing boy below. After some time of teasing torture, Kurt pulled off of Blaine's dick, allowing the babbling boy a short respite as he quickly discarded his overalls and undershirt, kicking off both his and Blaine's shoes. At the same time, Blaine wriggled out of his polo, movement restricted by the cramped quarters. He tossed the garment somewhere toward the front of the vehicle just as Kurt descended upon him once more, lavishing his newly-exposed torso with kisses and hickeys.

"Need...you..." Blaine panted wantonly. "_God, Kurt_...need you..."

"Who am I to deny you?" Kurt breathed hotly in his ear. The older boy reached down and pulled his overalls off the floor of the car. He extracted a tiny bottle and a foil packet from the pocket and dropped the denim, turning back to smirk at his lust-dazed boyfriend. "How hard?"

With an impatient groan, Blaine whipped a hand out, twisted it in Kurt's hair, and pulled him down for a tooth-filled kiss. "As hard as you can."

Kurt slicked up four fingers and thrust two into Blaine, carefully watching the way Blaine's back bowed off of the seat for any signs of distress. But he knew those moans, and they only meant pleasure. A minute later, Kurt added the other two fingers, and Blaine keened at the intrusion.

"Ready, baby?" Blaine nodded frantically, so Kurt quickly rolled on the condom and lubed up. Without another word, he slammed into Blaine, stopping only when his hips met his boyfriend's.

Blaine's mind exploded with pleasure, his legs automatically winding around Kurt's waist. As Kurt began to pound into him mercilessly, he completely fell apart. His eyes rolled back into his head, his nails dug tracts down Kurt's flawless back, his head fell to the side to give Kurt space to bite down through his own waves of lust. Some deep, quiet part of his mind knew he'd have marks for ages, but that hardly mattered when the tip of Kurt's cock was slamming into his prostate with every thrust and Kurt's teeth were grazing down his earlobe and Kurt's mouth was whispering into his skin, "_Come for me, baby," _and oh _god _it was too much. His throbbing cock, untouched by anything other than his and Kurt's stomachs during the brutal fucking, erupted, thick ropes of come flinging all the way to Blaine's neck and covering both of their torsos. The combination of Blaine's expression of pure ecstasy and Blaine's muscles clenching around his very stimulated cock led Kurt to tumble over the edge mere moments later.

Panting heavily, the two boys fell together, Kurt's head tucking into Blaine's neck and Blaine's arms wrapping around Kurt's back. They were covered in sweat and come and saliva and they had to get up, to get dressed, to get back to the real world but they felt so nice against each other and their eyelids were drooping and the real world could just fucking _wait_ as they slipped into a world of unconsciousness.

* * *

"Burt?" His eye creaked open at the echoing shout. "Burt, man, you back yet? Kurt?"

All at once, reality crashed over him violently. He jerked upward, yelping at the double pain of hitting his head on the roof and ripping his dried-come-glued chest from Blaine's. The latter woke the younger boy sharply. "What the—?" Kurt slapped a hand over Blaine's mouth, shooting him a warning glare. He silently donned his undershirt and overalls, wincing at the dried come on his skin. "Get dressed," he hissed. "Jake is back."

Jake Windham was one of the mechanics at Hummel Tire & Lube. He'd been working for Burt the longest, and knew Kurt since the boy's diaper days. Kurt thought of Jake as an uncle, which was one of the many reasons he did not want the older man to catch him naked in a car with his boyfriend.

Blaine scrambled into his boxers and jeans as Kurt slid into his work boots. "Where is my shirt?" Blaine whispered frantically.

"I don't know, find it!" Kurt stood to walk around the front of the car. It wasn't until he stepped forward that he realized he was still wearing a come-filled condom—and it was as uncomfortable as hell.

Just as Jake, a dark-haired man in his late thirties, rounded the corner, Blaine appeared at Kurt's side, barely pulling his polo over his head. In all honesty, Kurt knew they were never going to get away with it; their clothes were hopeless wrinkled, their hair was thoroughly tousled, Blaine's neck was littered with hickeys, their lips were kiss-swollen, Kurt could barely move, and Blaine's limp was noticeable.

They looked utterly debauched.

And Jake noticed.

"Hey Kurt, hey Blai—whoa." He froze a few feet from the Toyota, expression morphing from greeting to surprise to confusion to knowing. "And what have _you _boys been up to this afternoon in an empty garage of backseats?"

A thousand lies popped into Kurt's head, each less plausible than the last. With a groan, his head crashed forward, slamming against the hood of the car. "Please don't tell my dad."

Jake smirked at Blaine's terror-stricken face. "Relax, guys. You think the rest of us haven't scored a little nookie in this place over the years? Of course we have, even your d—"

"WHOA!" Kurt yelled , slapping hands over his ears. "Way too much sharing. Look, we got...a little carried away—" Blaine snorted, Kurt shot him a glare. "—and we'll clean up, I promise. Just...please don't tell my dad."

"Well, you might want to go and clean up, 'cause he'll be back in about twenty minutes." When the boys panicked, he bit back a laugh and continued. "Just go use the shower in the back. I'll take care of Miss Stabler's oil change. But the interior? That's all yours."

Kurt didn't think it was possible to blush so hard. "Thank you, Jake. I owe you so much."

As Kurt and Blaine hobbled off achingly, Jake called out, "Oh boys?" They stopped and turned. "You might want to take separate showers. Just in case."

Jake had a feeling he wouldn't get those mortified blushes out of his mind for a long time.

* * *

So. Sex. Good times all around.

If you're wondering why this fic is still rated T, despite the clearly M-rated material in this chapter, I'll tell you.

1) M-rated fics are not kept in the general search for Klaine on this site, and I'd like to keep this fic in the public eye as much as possible. It's the ego. Sorry.

2) Most of this fic will NOT be M-rated. I'll have a few chapters of explicit sex, but they'll be only a fraction.

3) I put a warning. So there.

4) FanFiction is less likely to find (and delete) this fic if it's hidden with the Ts instead of with the Ms.

So there you have it. Sorry if the fact this is still T bothers you, but no one is making you read it. You can leave.

To Kristine Lovegood: I promised sex, and thou shalt have sex.

Many of you who read AVKS might me thinking, "Hey. KQ. You already wrote a chapter about sexy times in the garage." And you'd be right! I know I've said I hate to repeat myself, and I do, but my reasoning is this:

1) One can never have enough sexy times in a garage.

2) Last time, they didn't actually have sex.

3) Last time, Burt caught them.

4) _One can never have enough sexy times in a garage._

I promise I will refrain from excessively repeating myself in the name of porn.

Alison would like you all to know that this chapter took me one hour and thirty-six minutes to write. I would also like to add that it is really hard to write gay sex scenes when Pandora keeps playing religious piano pieces while you're working. Jussayin'.

Alright, lovelies, you've had two updates in as many days, so I don't know how long it'll be 'til I'm back. But peace out 'til then!

**PERSONAL BLOG: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
**FANFICTION BLOG: **kqwriting


	8. The Robbery

**The Robbery**

He lay on his back, head resting on his crossed forearms. The lilting echo of "Be back in a jiffy!" and a ghost of a kiss goodbye brought a soft smile to his lips. He closed his eyes and hummed a tune discerned from the rhythmic buzz of the ceiling fan.

A sudden, light tinkling below pulled him from his lazy daze and into a sitting position. Surely his boyfriend couldn't be back yet; he'd left less than five minutes ago, and the convenience store from which the two purchased their intimate items was a ways out (for obviously desirable reasons). He knew the rest of the family was working, so the noise couldn't have been made by any of them.

Before he was conscious of his actions, he was padding silently out of the bedroom, cell phone in hand. He crept down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky ones as months of practice had taught him to do. The sound of rummaging was evident now. He dialed three numbers into his phone, but didn't hit the talk button; instead, he kept the device in his hand and scurried down the final flight of stairs, grateful for his silent bare feet. He slipped down the hall and rounded the corner into the living room, the source of the racket.

The sight that greeted him caused him to freeze in his tracks. A man, at least a head taller than himself, crouched beside a tall bookcase, the upper shelves already bare, stuffing a vast collection of DVDs into a garbage bag. The man wore dark blue jeans, a black tee that revealed half a skull tattoo on his left bicep, and a black ski mask. Just behind him, a tower of unplugged electronics—DVD player, cable box, Xbox, Wii, PlayStation, stereo—waited precariously, cords tangled haphazardly. A trash bag identical to the one the man was filling—this one already bursting to the seams—leaned against the tower, and the horrified boy knew it was packed with CDs, judging by the empty bookcase on the opposite side of the entertainment center.

The teen stood shocked for another long moment, still unnoticed by the robber, before calmly pressing _talk _and lifting the phone to his ear.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

"Yes, I'd like to report a robbery in progress."

The sound of his voice caused the man to jump up and whip around, sending DVDs cascading to the floor. "Who the hell are you?"

"Sir, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. The thief is now aware of my presence. Doesn't seem too thrilled, to be honest."

"What's your name, sir?"

"Listen, you little punk ass kid—"

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

"Can you tell me where you are?"

As Blaine rattled off the Hudson-Hummels' address, his eyes locked with the burglar's. They were a dull, flat brown, lit only by what Blaine easily identified as fear.

"Thank you, Blaine. Tell me, are you in any immediate danger?"

Blaine sized up his frozen opponent for a moment. "No, he doesn't seem to have a weapon—at least he hasn't pulled one yet." Panic joined fear in the robber's eyes. "I don't think he planned this very well."

And then the burglar was gone, tearing out of the room and into the dining room, where he dove through a broken window, leaving his spoils behind.

Blaine sighed. "He ran out. Sorry. I should've stopped him."

"No, sweetie," the operator assured him. "You were right to let him go; he could have hurt you. Honestly, you've been so calm about this whole thing. Weren't you scared?"

Blaine shrugged, even though the woman couldn't see him. "At first. But then I realized the guy was a moron."

"How so?"

"Well, he wasn't wearing gloves, so his fingerprints are everywhere, and my car's still in the driveway."

* * *

He turned onto his street, ears burning. _Honestly, it was just lube, no reason to get so embarrassed. _Still, he was going to kill his boyfriend. "It's your turn to buy it," he muttered mockingly. "It'll be fine, no one'll care. The cashier most _certainly_ won't stare at you like you've got eight heads." He continued to grumble mutinously as he drove down the lane.

Until flashing blue lights shoved all thoughts of lube and mortified check-out girls from his mind.

He screeched to a stop behind one of two parked police cruisers, barely remembering to shut off his Navigator before flying out of the vehicle. "BLAINE!" He ran up the front steps just as the door opened, and he collided with a tall, wide police officer.

"Whoa there!" the man laughed, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. "You live here?"

"Yes, where's Blaine? BLAINE!" he shouted around the cop.

A gelled head poked into the hallway from the kitchen. "Kurt!"

Kurt bolted past the officer and into the kitchen, attacking his boyfriend with a hug. Squeezing tightly, he babbled, "Oh my god, are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh my god, did someone break in? Oh my god, were you attacked? Do you need a hospital, oh my god—"

"KURT!" Blaine, whose arms had automatically wrapped around Kurt to catch him, leaned back and placed soothing hands on his flushed porcelain cheeks. "Sh, baby, calm down. I'm okay. Your house was nearly robbed, but it's over now."

Kurt's screech of "WHAT?!" was interrupted by a female officer he'd failed to notice. "You must be the boyfriend."

Blaine turned to her and beamed, arms around Kurt once more. "Yep. Told you he'd flip. Wait 'til he hears the really bad news."

"Oh god, what?"

"You're going to have to completely redo your CD and DVD organizational system."

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm going to freak out over that once I'm done freaking out over the fact that for a minute there, I thought you were dead."

Blaine pressed a long, reassuring kiss to Kurt's trembling lips. "I'm okay. Nothing got taken, no one got hurt—the only casualty was a dining room window. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Your dad's on the way," the brunette officer said. "He needs to sign some papers. Your boyfriend here provided a very precise description of the burglar. You should be proud." Blaine ducked his head into Kurt's shoulder, hiding a pleased grin.

"Aw," Kurt cooed. "Considering a career in law enforcement, Blaine?"

"And if I was?"

"I'd leave you before I ever got caught dead dating someone in government-issue polyester. No offense," he added to the woman—Officer Lucas, by her badge.

"None taken," she laughed. "These are not flattering at all."

"I told your dad you were out buying popcorn," Blaine mentioned suddenly.

Kurt flushed again. "Right. I'll tell him they only had generic brand." He tried to ignore Officer Lucas's knowing smirk. "Come on." He took Blaine's hand and gave it a tug. "If you're done here, we're going to go upstairs, where I will inform all of Facebook of my dashing boyfriend's heroics, and then we will watch _After the Sunset_ and compare your robber to Pierce Brosnan." With a little wave, he dragged Blaine from the room, leaving an amused officer in his wake.

* * *

So, the ending sucked. Sorry. I wrote finished this at three in the goddamn morning. I need to stop having brain blasts right as I fall asleep.

BONUS POINTS TO ME FOR TURNING BLANGST INTO FUNNIES. I don't want to get too depressing early on, but BAM I managed to avoid it.

If you haven't seen _After the Sunset_, stop whatever you're doing (mostly likely reading this sentence) and go watch it. It's fucking brilliant.

Officer Lucas was named after Fat Lucas, starting goalie for the Swindon Town Swoodilypoopers, even though she is a) a woman, b) not a football player, and c) not fat. FUK DA POLICE.

ASDLFKASLFKJALSFASD FFKSFJ; BOX SCENE AFD;HASD;FLKAJSFLKSDA F I WANT YOU BACK ASFDAHSFD;LKJSD;FLKAJSFASF BRIDESMAIDS ASF;LKJSADF;ALKSDJFS;DLKFJA;SDF HELLO 12 ASFKAJFHSLKDFHSALKDJFLSDKFH RYAN MURPHY

Peace out, homies.

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	9. The Cookies

**The Cookies**

He knocked on the door for the third time, brow furrowing in confusion. Surely his boyfriend was home; they'd been planning this dinner-movie date for a week and a half. He rapped his knuckles against the wood halfheartedly, and then dug into his pocket to remove his key ring. He inserted one key into the lock and entered the house.

"Hello?"

No answer.

He moved slowly through the empty living room, listening for signs of life. A quiet crash to his left alerted him to a presence in the kitchen. He entered the room and paused in confusion. Pans, bowls, and whisks littered the flour-covered island. On the counter behind this island, every baking material imaginable, from butter to icing, completely eclipsed the surface. A highly disheveled boy, apron haphazardly tied behind his back and hair thoroughly mussed, shuffled about the kitchen, pouring, stirring, checking the oven.

"Kurt?"

Blaine was answered with a deep sniffle. He immediately crossed over to his boyfriend, gently tugging a batter-covered spatula from his hand and spinning him around slowly. The older boy's eyes were puffy and shining, and his nose was running slightly. His skin was dull and his eyes lifeless.

"Kurt..." Blaine gathered his boyfriend in his arms and ushered him over to the dining room table. He scooted his chair closer to Kurt's so their knees touched. He held the older boy's hands in his own. "Kurt? Love, talk to me. Why are you so upset?"

Kurt hung his head and sniffed. "I'm—I'm not, I just—" Blaine squeezed his hands, and Kurt finally met his eyes.

_You can tell me anything._

"I'm so stupid!" Kurt burst out. "I'm such an idiot! I'm too dumb to get into NYADA, too dumb to leave this backward state, so idiotic that I thought I was good enough—"

"Hey!" Blaine's sharp interjection startled Kurt into silence. "Who are you and what have you done with Kurt Hummel? The Kurt Hummel I know, the Kurt Hummel I _fell in love with_—" Kurt ducked his head and blushed. "—would never allow anyone to speak about him like that—and nor will I.

"Kurt, getting rejected from NYADA is not the end of the world. I know it feels that way, I do, but what did I tell you at Christmas?" Kurt didn't answer. "You are perfectly imperfect, and I love you for it. Right? You believed me then. What's changed?"

Kurt sighed. "Rachel just got back in town, and of course her first order of business was to come here—avoiding Finn—and tell me about the splendor of New York and NYADA. She told me about her amazing roommate and hot boys and Broadway shows and—I don't understand why I don't get all of that."

"So...stress baking?"

"Stress baking."

"Hold on." Blaine walked back into the kitchen and filled a platter with dozens of cookies—chocolate chip, white macadamia nut, sugar, peanut butter, and Kurt's favorite, triple chocolate. He poured two glasses of milk and carried the lot into the living room. After depositing it onto the coffee table, he returned to Kurt and held out a hand. "Come on. We are going to watch trashy reality shows, and we are going to stuff ourselves with cookies, and I am going to keep up an annoying stream of comments about your perfection. Sound good?"

Kurt grinned, took Blaine's hand, and stood. "Sounds perfect."

* * *

So...are you mad at me? I'm sorry I haven't updated in 9.2 billion years; I found out at the end of July that I had a shit-ton of summer work to do, and I only had a month left to do it. School started up on the twentieth, and things have been pretty hectic since then. I managed to sneak this in during AP Environmental Science. Sorry my first update in forever is so short.

So, I have in one month watched every single VlogBrothers, Crash Course, and SciShow video, and I'm working my way through Hank Games now. I'm more emotionally attached to the Swindon Town Swoodilypoopers than I am to most people in my life. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, look it up on YouTube.)

I've recently gotten so addicted to Twitter. I don't even know how this happened to me. I always used to hate Twitter, and then BAM. Cocaine. I've actually been on Twitter more than I have Tumblr.

Today I spent $52 on a limited edition, autographed box set of the first four of John Green's books. I may or may not have cried a little, both at the price and the excitement.

IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED "THE NEW NORMAL" YET STOP WHATEVER THE HELL YOU'RE DOING AND GO TO NBC'S WEBSITE. RIGHT. THE FUCK. NOW.

I would like to apologize to Alison for updating while she is without wifi. I love you, bby, don't hate me.

Okay, I think that's all I have to update you on. Except expect (wow, that was hard to type) longer periods between updates of this and my other WIPs because of school and NaNoWriMo, which I'm already gearing up for.

Love you, bitches!

**PERSONAL TUMBLR: **klainebowsandquirrelmort  
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**EDIT: **I LIED! I actually have a lot more I needed to say. One thing is that this was prompted to me around the time of the Big Bang by .Love. Sorry it took me so long!

Also, I've gotten several reviews from Guests, and while that's awesome, I love reviews from anyone, I can't reply to you there, and I LOVE replying. So Imma reply to the Guests here!

**storycreator10:** Blaine's too big of a badass for one robber to handle.

**KlaineGleek119 (chapter five review): **It's really fucking late. I'm not translating that. But I appreciate the sentiment, regardless.

**KlaineGleek119 (chapter eight review): **I'm glad you're liking this sequel! I love me some sassy!Blaine.

I actually thought there were more than that, but I guess I was wrong.

ALSO THALI JUST REMINDED ME OF BLAINE'S COOKIE PROMISE FROM THE BOX SCENE AND UGH WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?! THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULDN'T FANFIC IN CLASS!


	10. The Wonderland

******WARNING: This chapter contains explicit sexual contact between two consenting males. If that's not your thing, you can skip this chapter without worrying about missing any important plot points (because this story has no plot, in case you haven't noticed). For an explanation of why this fic is still rated T, please see the A/N at the end of chapter seven.**  


* * *

**The Wonderland**

It was just a day. As with most teenagers free of school, they weren't entirely sure what day of the week it was, but that hardly mattered. What mattered was the late morning sun trickling through the partially-drawn blinds and the luxury of an empty house and the whir of the central air conditioning and the beating of their hearts.

Their bodies were strewn carelessly across the haphazardly-made bed, limbs tangled slightly. They stared up at the eggshell ceiling as though it were a star-spangled night sky, reminiscing aimlessly about a perfect year. Occasionally, one of their heads would whip to face the other in the excitement of remembering some scene, or one or both of their backs would bow of the bed in hysterical laughter, or a hand would reach out to shove a shoulder playfully, or a pair of eyes would sneak a glance at a face or a body or an unintentionally revealed strip of skin. The air was light. Carefree. Fun.

Eventually, after a thousand jokes and a thousand stories and a thousand _remember-whens_ were shared, they fell silent, breathing in the airy scents of the cool breeze from the cracked window and the light cologne each was wearing and the sun and the summer. The hands between them fell together as naturally as puzzle pieces. They lay breathing until one of them rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his unoccupied hand. "You're beautiful."

The other boy wrinkled his nose and laughed brightly. "Well thank you. You're not so bad yourself, hot stuff."

"So, I was thinking..." Blaine smiled coyly from beneath his lashes. "...since you're so beautiful, I should like to kiss you."

"Oh should you?" Kurt quirked an eyebrow. "And what makes you think I would let you do such a thing?"

"Oh please," Blaine scoffed. "Like you can say no to this." He lifted his head to gesture to his body."

Kurt rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. "Your wiles have no effect on me."

"Mm, we'll see about that." Blaine leaned down to leave a light, lingering kiss on Kurt's lips. Just before he broke away, he suddenly twisted so his body hovered above Kurt's, hands propped on either side of his head, eliciting a shriek of laughter from the boy below.

"I believe your intentions are rapidly becoming less honorable, Mr. Anderson," Kurt chuckled breathlessly, finger toying the hem of the shirt that hung from Blaine's torso.

Blaine dipped down to initiate another kiss, this one deeper and decidedly less innocent, but broke away harshly when an idea struck him. A huge grin stretched across his face. "I know what we need." He crawled forward a bit and stretched out toward Kurt's nightstand. Before he could reach his goal, he felt two sets of fingers tickling his exposed sides and a mouth blowing roughly into the skin of his stomach. "Aah!" He collapsed, cackling uncontrollably as Kurt used his weakness to straddle him and tickle him mercilessly. "Stop!" he gasped, tears flowing through his laughter. "Oh g-god, you m-_monster_!"

After a few moments, Kurt, too, was giggling so hard he crumpled, laying side-by-side with his boyfriend, chest heaving with exertion. "Sorry," he said breathlessly, "but you can't leave such a pretty stomach right in front of my face and expect me not to do something about it."

"I fell in love with the devil." They lay together for a short while before Blaine popped back up again. "Hey, I was doing something!" He twisted to fiddle with Kurt's iPhone where it was nestled in an iHome.

"You better not be sending any dirty texts," Kurt warned with an absentminded swat toward Blaine's rear. A second later, music filled the room. Kurt cocked his head to the side, shooting his boyfriend a curious look as the younger boy turned back to him, walking upright on his knees until he was up against Kurt's side. "We've got the afternoon," he mouthed, smirking.

"Oh no."

"You've got this room for two."

"You are too much."

"One thing I've left to do..."

"I can't even with you right now—"

"...discover me discovering you."

"_Oh my god,_" Kurt breathed as Blaine stopped mouthing the words and started mouthing along Kurt's jawline.

"One mile to every inch of  
Your skin like porcelain..."

Kurt wasn't sure how he did it, but Blaine managed to whip his shirt over his head, shucking his own right after, in a matter of seconds. Suddenly Blaine's mouth was exploring Kurt's bare torso, teeth purposefully dragging over the older boy's sensitive spots lightly to send him into shrieking laughter.

"...one pair of candy lips and  
Your bubblegum tongue."

"Stop, I hate you!"

Blaine ignored Kurt's hysterical yelp and latched their mouths together, grinning through the kiss as he sucked on Kurt's tongue. Blaine's lips then left Kurt's to explore the porcelain boy's nose, cheeks, ears, neck, shoulders, arms, earning all sorts of delicious reaction noises that ranged from needy groans to ticklish giggles.

"'Cause if you want love,  
We'll make it.  
Swim in a deep sea  
Of blankets.  
Take all your big plans  
And break 'em."

"This is bound to be a while..." Blaine breathed into Kurt's ear. His lips trailed a direct line to Kurt's lower stomach, licking just about the waistband of his skinning jeans. He reveled in the way Kurt squirmed, arms splayed carelessly to the sides as his eyes squeezed shut to allow for just _feeling_. As the chorus played into the second verse, Blaine slowly peeled back Kurt's lower layer, lips and tongue and teeth exploring the newly exposed flesh as it appeared.

Kurt was in heaven. A light, carefree song about making love warbled beside his head as a beautiful boy worshipped his body. His mind fogged over with happy lust, the absolute biggest smile lighting up his face. This moment was never allowed to end.

"I'll never let your head  
Hit the bed  
Without my hand behind it."

Blaine tangled one hand in the back of Kurt's hair as the other fumbled with his own jeans. With a derisive snort, Kurt's deft fingers undid the button and zipper, earning Kurt a thank-you kiss from Blaine, who quickly wriggled from the denim prison. In seconds, both boys were clad solely in boxer briefs, and Blaine eased his hips down to brush Kurt's teasingly. Kurt gasped in pleased surprise, his own hips chasing Blaine's as they danced away.

"Damn, baby,  
You frustrate me.  
I know you're mine, all mine, all mine,  
But you look so good it hurts sometimes."

Blaine's fingers tripped along the top of Kurt's briefs. Kurt seized the younger boy's face and pulled him down for a searing kiss, a silent demand to hurry up. Blaine broke away laughing. He finally relented and carefully peeled back the light blue fabric, revealing a more-than-half-hard, leaking cock. Kurt sighed at the relief in pressure, but that sigh was quickly choked into a groan as a thick pink tongue teased the head. "You're the damn devil, you know that?" Kurt moaned, lacing his fingers through Blaine's lightly gelled curls.

The boy in question smirked up at his boyfriend, refusing to fully wrap his lips around Kurt's aching member. Just as Kurt bucked up again, searching for Blaine's mouth, Blaine lifted his head up, shucking his own boxers. When they were both finally, _finally _naked, Blaine pressed their entire bodies together, chest to chest, cock to cock, nose to nose. The song drifted to a close, but Blaine had set it to repeat, a fact that elicited a chuckle from Kurt, even through his mind-fogging pleasure.

Blaine reached over toward the nightstand once more and pulled a bottle and a foil packet from the drawer. He set the latter on the comforter and squeezed some cold lube onto his finger. Gently circling Kurt's hot entrance, Blaine traced his lips all over Kurt's flat stomach for a few moments before slowly pushing past the ring of muscle. Kurt's back arched off the bed in pleasure and pain as Blaine stretched him carefully, sucking marks into his neck and shoulders and belly.

"_God you're beautiful_," Blaine breathed, sliding a second lubed finger in beside the first. He scissored the digits, brushing teasingly against the tight bundle of nerves that made Kurt mewl deliciously. Gasping, Kurt's legs fell open even wider. He grabbed Blaine's face once more and pulled it closer to his lips, sucking some bruises of his own into the slightly shiny skin.

A third finger joined the first two, and Kurt was fully prepared. Blaine quickly rolled on the condom, and as he lubed up his throbbing cock, the pads of Kurt's fingertips traced ever-so-softly up his sides, causing him to shiver and giggle. "You are making this extremely difficult," Blaine laughed, temporarily forgoing the lube in favor of pressing a sloppy kiss to his boyfriend's lips.

"My apologies," Kurt snickered. Blaine laced his fingers through Kurt's, pressing their joined fists into the mattress as he slowly, gently, achingly pressed into Kurt's entrance, linking their bodies with a gasp. With a smile, Blaine latched his lips onto a spot just behind Kurt's left ear as he began to rock in and out of Kurt's entrance, both boys groaning and laughing senselessly with the feeling.

Then, without warning, Kurt kicked his legs around Blaine's waist and rolled them over, hands still linked. He grinned down at his surprised boyfriend. "I'm not the only one who can tease," Kurt murmured, voice husky. He rolled his hips ever-so-slightly, earning a choked whine from the boy below. Kurt rubbed his leaking cock against Blaine's stomach, eyes rolling back into his head with the sensation.

The song played three more times as the boys made love, slipping and laughing and rolling and panting and sweating and connecting in every way imaginable. Their orgasms snuck up on them, Blaine erupting first into Kurt with a faint gasp, Kurt following moments later into Blaine's firm fist. Blaine collapsed onto Kurt, both boys giggling through the passion. As the song dwindled to a close for the fourth time, Kurt reached a hand back and smacked the music off. "That was one of your best ideas yet," he said, pulling his boyfriend closer so his curls rested on Kurt's chest.

Blaine's fingers danced absentmindedly along Kurt's pectoral. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I, for one, had a grand time."

Kurt rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "Well you can grand yourself all the way to the bathroom and get me a washcloth. I don't want to be covered in come for the rest of the afternoon."

"Fine then." Blaine craned his neck down and licked the white substance from Kurt's stomach, eliciting a shocked shriek from his boyfriend. He then removed the condom and tossed it away before settling back against Kurt's body. "There. All clean."

"You're impossible."

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

"Unfortunately."

Kurt pressed a kiss to the top of Blaine's head, and within minutes, both boys were sound asleep.

* * *

So...smut. The song in this story is "Your Body is a Wonderland" by John Mayer, and it's so fucking sensual. I heard it on Pandora a few months ago (not for the first time ever, but for the first time in years), and I thought, "There needs to be a fic about this." And voila! Fic. This is an apology for my super-short, super-sucky last chapter. It's also a preemptive sorry-for-not-updating, because being in school offers much less writing time, and in November, I'm pretty much going to drop off the grid entirely for NANOWRIMO which I swear I'm going to do this year.

This chapter is dedicated to Alison for obvious reasons and Kristine, my smut-loving Spanish reviewer. U GO GURLS.

I JUST REALLY LOVE FUN, FLUFFY SMUT, OKAY?! IT JUST GIVES ME ALL THE FEELS.

OHMYGOD I ordered a shit-ton of books from B&N today and I can't wait for them all to come in. I would like to thank my uncle for the $50 gift card that's been sitting in my wallet for over a year that I totes forgot about.

TO THE GUEST WHO REVIEWED AVKS: I don't know who you are, but I fucking love you. I cannot believe you read sixty-seven chapters in six and a half hours. You're fucking amazing, you know that? FOUR FOR YOU, GUEST.

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	11. The Hand

**The Hand**

Through the haze of solid black before him, dotted stars peeked out, dusted across the night sky like spilled cinnamon. The scent of dewy leaves pressed against him, and he was plucked from the corporeal world and was sent spiraling into one of light and clouds and silence.

The only thing keeping him tethered to the life below was a hand, a long, thin, soft hand, with endless fingers woven seamlessly through his. The hand kept the back of his own pressed into the rough bark of the bough suspending him from the earth below. The hand squeezed his gently, and a thumb rubbed along his knuckles. This tenuous hold on reality was just strong enough for him to turn his head and whisper, "I'm so glad you're here."

The answering smile put the stars to shame. "Always."

The silence descended again, but now that it had been broken, it remained marred. The hum of crickets dancing on the blades of grass below sung over the low harmony of the freeway a mile east. A few stray shrieks from night swimmers rang out. The rustle of their leafy cocoon insulted them from the screech of an owl four yards over.

But none of this music remained immune from the harsh, muted bellows behind their heads—nor the thumps, nor the crashes, nor the whimpers.

But he couldn't think about that. Not now. Not when the world in the sky was safe, when the hand holding his was soft, when the boy next to him was beautiful. The ugliness below could wait until morning, after the first rays of sun froze the world in an instant of perfection.

He didn't mean to fall asleep. He meant to lift off of the tree branch, to fly amongst the stars, to take his lover on a tour of all the universe has to offer two young boys in love. But a new sound, one that completely eclipsed the soundtrack of hatred rising from the underneath, took his expectations and tossed them into the spangled abyss above. It was light and lilting and so close, almost tangible, and it lulled him into a world even more beautiful than this one.

But he never quite left.

There was a hand holding him down.

* * *

Okay, okay, short, I know (I think this A/N will end up being longer than the chapter). I'm sorry. But, in good news, I hope to upload another, longer chapter today, or perhaps tomorrow. But probably today, because today I can afford to procrastinate.

MeMyselfAnd100 prompted stargazing back when I was writing AVKS, and that's what I set out to write, but...Blangst happened. So yeah.

I've gotten some questions about the status of my WIPs, and I understand your confusion and frustration, because I don't update. Ever. So here's my game plan:

1) Update ASKS whenever possible.  
2) Work on HFT and TMWR before any other WIP, since I have those more carefully planned out.  
3) Once HFT and TWMR are finished, move on to TRTQQ, which I don't have planned out and need to do.  
4) Ignore 1-3 once NaNoWriMo starts.

So yeah, I've got a lot on my plate. Throw in college apps and AP work and you can see why updating kind of isn't my top priority. (Actually, it is my _personal _top priority, because I care about it more than that other shit, but unfortunately life likes to be a cruel bitch, so...)

I think that's all I have for you right now! Peace out, homies!

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	12. The Game

**The Game**

The Lima Community Park was bursting with life. Children dashed about the playground, dogs chased one another, adults ambled along the garden path, preteens on bikes zoomed in and out of view. A group of older teenagers, some legally adults now, had gathered on the empty baseball diamond, and before long, a game of shirts versus skins broke out, and the girls (both actual and honorary) abandoned the boys in favor of eating a picnic lunch in the shade of a wide oak a few yards away. Soon, both groups were absorbed in their respective activities, each, for the most part, ignoring the other.

Until one girl looked up from her wrap and sighed. "Damn those boys are fine."

The others followed Mercedes' lustful stare to the boys playing baseball. "Ooh, I second that," Tina laughed, clearly ogling her boyfriend's ridiculously toned abs.

"At least Andre the Giant is on shirts."

"Shut up, Santana!"

"Whatever, hobbit."

Kurt tuned his friends out, trying not to react physically to the sight of his sweaty, shirtless boyfriend's muscles straining with the exertion of the game. His shoulders undulated beneath his sun-darkened skin as he twisted back to pitch, a few stray beads of perspiration trailing down the dusting of hair on his stomach. The gel gluing his locks down had all but evaporated, and soaked curls clung to his forehead.

Yes, Kurt was trying very hard to _keep calm. _

Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. "Damn, Hummel, you're going to poke someone's eye out with that thing."

Kurt whipped the corner of the picnic blanket onto his lap. Glaring at his Latina friend, he snapped, "Thank you, Santana."

Mercedes smirked. "I don't blame you, boy. Your man is...mmm."

"Yeah."

Kurt looked scandalized when all the girls sighed in unison. "Um, ladies? He's gay, and he's mine, so check out your own boyfriends, okay?"

Sugar shrugged. "I don't know what you all are getting so worked up about. His brother was way hotter." Kurt threw a grape at her face, which she caught and ate with a wink.

Quinn returned her gaze to the baseball diamond. "Oh, looks like they're taking a break." The others' heads swiveled around to see a herd of sweaty teenage boys charging toward the food.

"Anyone got a beer?"

"NOAH!"

"Dude, are those Lays? Gimme some!"

"Mike, you have to _share _the turkey."

"No!"

"Boys, get away!"

"Hey, babe!" Blaine flopped onto the grass beside Kurt, letting his friends kill each other over the lunch in hopes that there would be enough left for him at the end. "You watch any of the game?"

Carefully avoiding the way Blaine's stomach rippled in the sunlight as he stretched back, Kurt swallowed thickly. "Um..." _Intelligent, Hummel. But how do you say, "Yes, if by 'watch the game' you mean 'had so many sexual fantasies about you and locker rooms that I actually got a boner in public.'"? _

Blaine didn't seem to need an answer, though, because he leaned across Kurt's lap to snatch an apple from Sam's hand with a laugh.

Across Kurt's _tented _lap.

Kurt held his breath until Blaine had settled back beside him, and then let it out in a sharp gust. Blaine finally picked up on his boyfriend's tension. "You okay, love? Is the sun getting to you? I told you to pack more sunscreen."

"No, I'm—" Kurt succumbed to his desire and twisted his head to look at Blaine. _Jesus Christ._ "I'm fine. It's just..." After checking to make sure the rest of the New Directions were otherwise occupied, Kurt leaned down—_why does he have to smell so good?_—and whispered, "You just look really, really attractive right now."

Blaine's head jerked back, surprise coloring his face. He glanced down at himself quickly and then back up at Kurt, whose face had turned bright red. It was then that Blaine noticed Kurt's _situation_. His eyes quickly darkened. "I see. Was it a _problem_ to watch me play baseball?"

"Don't you even start, Blaine Anderson," Kurt warned, "or I swear you won't get anything for a week."

"From the looks of things, you won't last that long."

Kurt groaned because it was true. He desperately wished for his friends to vanish and for his boyfriend's mouth to be wrapped around something other than a bottle of Pepsi. _Wait a minute_...Kurt watched the way Blaine held the bottle: firm grasp, fingers tight around the thickest part, lips spread over the opening, tongue occasionally tracing the rim.

_This jerk is giving the bottle a blow job right in front of me._

"_Blaine Anderson_!" Kurt hissed. "Stop it!"

"Fine." Blaine set the bottle on the ground as Kurt turned his head, biting his lip in frustration. Then, without any warning, he reached up and grazed his teeth down Kurt's earlobe, eliciting a shriek from the older boy that their friends _definitely _noticed.

"What're you two doing over there?"

"Get some, Hummel."

"Dude, that's my brother."

"Come on guys, think of the _children_!"

"Shut up!" Kurt snapped. He turned to glare at his boyfriend, who smiled back sheepishly. "And you!" He leaned down once more to snarl in Blaine's ear, "You are going to be _punished _for that later."

When Kurt returned to the meal, it was Blaine who had a _situation_ to deal with.

* * *

Okay, so this was shorter than I imagined it would be, but still longer than the last chapter! This was another old prompt, from MissTalented25.

So...I really have nothing to say here. Love you lots!

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	13. The Kids

**The Kids**

Panic set in quickly. His sweat-slickened palms slipped on the steering wheel, but he refused to budge even an inch from the center of the lane; crashing was not an option after that phone call. The monotonous hum of tires on highway provided the backing harmony for the banging beat of his heart and the rushing thrum of blood in his ears. No matter how high he cranked the air conditioning, it was still way too hot in his car.

He whipped into his boyfriend's driveway, nearly slamming into the back of his car. He barely remembered to shut his own off before launching himself from the vehicle and tripping up the front steps. Not bothering to knock, he shoved his key into the lock with shaking hands and burst into the house.

The sight that greeted him was not one he anticipated. Blood spatter was not covering the walls, the lifeless body of his boyfriend was not strewn across the ground, huge, black-clad men were not holding anyone hostage.

Instead, three blonde children, all younger than ten, bounced around the living room, tossing Legos at each other and screaming shrilly. The floor was littered with toys and crayons and Cheerios. He stood in shock before he was noticed. The smallest child, a young girl of no more than four, toppled off the loveseat and landed at his feet. "Hey, who're you?"

"Uh..."

"BLAINE!"

He looked up from the child to see his extremely disheveled boyfriend barreling out of the kitchen right toward him. He caught the distressed boy and held him tight. "Are you okay?"

Kurt nodded. "Thank god you're here. I thought I'd go insane."

Blaine held the other boy at arms' length and examined him closely. "So wait. You're not hurt?"

Confused, Kurt replied, "No, why would you think that?"

* * *

"_Hello?"_

"Blaine_?"_

"_Kurt? Kurt, what's wrong?"_

_Scuffling. A loud bang. A choked-back cry of pain. _

"_KURT!"_

"_Oh my god—_help_."_

_High pitched shriek._

"_Kurt, I'm on my w—_what was that_?"_

_More scuffling. A yelp. _

"_Hey—no—_stop_!"_

"_Kurt? _KURT_!"_

_Dial tone._

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" Blaine asked. "After that phone call? Kurt, I thought you were being murdered."

Kurt mentally replayed the conversation, and then his eyes blew wide. "No, oh my god, you thought—" He turned back to the curious children and snapped, "I'll be back in just a minute. Do_ not _inflict any more damage upon my house." He grabbed Blaine's hand and dragged him to the kitchen.

Before they reached the doorway, a tiny hand tugged on Blaine's cardigan. A young boy barely older than six peered up at him from beneath bangs that reminded him eerily of Jeff's. "Are you Mr. Kurt's boyfriend?"

"Yes," Kurt answered for Blaine. "Now go murder your sisters or something."

Finally alone with Blaine in the kitchen, Kurt perched himself on the island and buried his face in his hands with a dramatic sigh. Blaine placed his palms on his boyfriend's thighs and rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs. "Are you okay?"

"I hate children."

Blaine bit back a laugh. "Whose kids are they?"

"Jake's. There was a massive pile-up in West Lima, so the entire shop is working. Jake's regular babysitter is out of town, so I was called in for the emergency."

"Don't you normally babysit the Albain girl down the street?"

"That's one kid, Blaine! One! And she's normal! These demons—I don't know what Jake feeds them, but they're _insane_."

Blaine poked his head back into the living room. The Windham kids were wrestling behind the couch. He looked back at Kurt. "Okay, so you have crazy kids. But you're not hurt, right?"

Kurt lifted his head and smiled softly. "No, I'm good. I bumped my knee on the coffee table trying to get Ricky down from the couch, but other than that I'm good."

"Good." Blaine wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. "You have no idea how scared I was after that call."

"Sorry."

Blaine leaned back and smiled. "So, is it time for them to go to bed?"

"Yeah, like half an hour ago. They're supposed to crash on Finn's bed."

"Alrighty then!" Blaine's smile brightened. He strode out of the kitchen, grabbed the smaller girl by the waist, and yanked her off her brother. He held her upside-down so they were eye-to-eye.

She giggled. "Hi! What's your name?"

"My name's Blaine. What's yours?"

"Emily."

Well, Miss Emily, do you want to play a game?"

"Yeah!"

The other two children crowded around him, grabbing up at him. "We wanna play! We wanna play, too!"

Blaine deftly flipped Emily onto his back. "Emily's going to go first, and then—"

"Me!" the older girl yipped.

Blaine knelt down before the girl. "And what's your name?"

"Anna," the girl replied shyly.

"Well, okay, then Anna will go, and then Ricky."

"Hey, you know my name!" the boy exclaimed, astonished.

"I'm magical. So here's how you play: I'm going to give Emmy a piggyback ride upstairs to Mr. Finn's room. I'm gonna tell her a secret, and then I'll do the same for you two. Okay?" All three children nodded. "Good!" With a wink at Kurt, who leaned against the doorjamb leading to the kitchen, jaw dropped in amazement, Blaine bounded up the stairs, a giggling four-year-old bouncing on his back. He turned into Finn's bedroom, and in one fluid motion tossed Emily gently onto the bed.

Laughing brightly, the girl asked, "What's the secret, Mr. Blaine?"

Sighing, Blaine sat on the edge of the unmade bed, the child immediately crawling into his lap. "Okay, you wanna know the secret?" Eyes wide and face serious, Emmy nodded frantically. "Okay. The secret is...Mr. Kurt is afraid of you."

"What?" the little girl squeaked. "That's crazy! Mr. Kurt can't be a-scared of kids, he's old!"

Blaine nodded solemnly. "You, your brother, and your sister. You guys are so wild, he doesn't know what to do with you."

"Oh." Emily hung her head. "What do we do to make Mr. Kurt feel better?"

"Well, let's get your siblings up here and see what they decide, huh?" Emily agreed, and within a few minutes, all three Windham children were cuddled on Finn's bed in deep discussion concerning how to make amends with their babysitter. When they made a decision, Blaine called Kurt upstairs. The man trekked upward slowly, unsure of what was awaiting him.

When he reached Finn's room, he was attacked by three small bodies. They clung to his legs and babbled, "We're sorry Mr. Kurt! We love you! You're a great babysitter! We didn't mean to be obshinks!"

"Obnoxious," Blaine corrected quietly from the bed. He smiled kindly at his surprised boyfriend, who grinned back appreciatively. "Alright, munchkins, it's bedtime."

"Mr. Kurt, will you sing to us?" Ricky begged as he crawled under Finn's sheets.

"Yeah, Mr. Kurt, please?" the girls echoed, snuggling together.

"Please Mr. Kurt," Blaine murmured. With a tiny tear in his eyes, Kurt perched on the edge of the bed and began to sing.

"Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes  
And save these questions for another day.  
I think I know what you've been asking me.  
I think you know what I've been trying to say.

I promise I would never leave you,  
And you should always know  
Wherever you may go,  
No matter where you are,  
I never will be far away."

By the time Kurt reached the bridge, all three kids' eyes were closed, though none were quite asleep. Blaine's own were misty as he watched his beautiful boyfriend serenade the children. Visions of the future, of an older but equally beautiful Kurt, of a less teenage-boy-themed and more princess-themed bedroom, of a headful of chestnut curls, of sleepy glasz eyes, swirled around his mind.

"Someday we'll all be gone,  
But lullabies go on and on.  
They never die.  
That's how you and I  
Will be."

As the last note warbled to a close, the two teenagers tiptoed out of Finn's room and into Kurt's. Blaine immediately pulled Kurt in for a kiss.

"What was that for?" Kurt laughed breathlessly.

"You're going to make a great father."

Kurt collapsed on the bed with a groan. "No I'm _not_. I couldn't handle three kids for two hours. How am I going to survive having kids twenty-four-seven?"

Crawling beside Kurt and tugging him close, Blaine whispered in his ear, "We'll do it together. You'll never be alone."

Kurt tossed his head to the side. "You really wanna have kids with me?"

"Well, let's start with one kid. Not sure if I can handle a crying husband _and_ multiple crying babies." Kurt slapped his shoulder. "Spousal abuse!"

"I want a divorce."

"Nope, you're stuck with me _forever_!"

"Mm, I'll take that punishment."

"Ugh, don't tease me, there are children in the house!"

"I hate you."

"Love you too, babe. Love you too."

* * *

THIS FUCKING CHAPTER. It was really long, but took me no time to write. HOWEVER, IT TOOK ME SIX GODDAMN YEARS TO TYPE BECAUSE I'M BEING A FUCKING MORON TODAY. I swear, I hit the backspace button more times than every other button combined. (And yet I'm typing just fine right now.)

Sorry. Bad day.

So this chapter is a shout-out to Gleekaramous, who won my contest back in chapter five. I know I didn't quite follow your prompt ("Blaine's little cousins come and visit. Kurt and Blaine babysit."), but I really wanted Kurt to be the one who's bad with kids. I think that fits his personality better. And I don't think Kurt would have any cousins. So I fudged it. Sorry. BUT YOU STILL ROCK AND I STILL LOVE YOU.

LOL Alison I lied I'm posting today.

IF YOU LIKED THE LAST CHAPTER and you also like smut, you should check out my extended piece, "The Punishment," which is a M-rated one-shot about exactly how Kurt got back at Blaine for his shenanigans in the park. If you don't like smut, that's cool; you won't miss anything by not reading it.

I HAD A FUCKING NAZI SUB TODAY AND I ALMOST PUNCHED HER IN THE FACE.

(I'd like to make an amendment to that. By "Nazi sub" I meant a freakishly controlling substitute teacher, not a U-boat from the Third Reich.)

LUV U BETCHS.

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	14. The Job

**The Job**

He hated lying, especially to his boyfriend. He's stutter his way through, heat creeping up his neck, pupils dilating in fear. Stomach-churning guilt would plague him for hours after the lie. He'd avoid contact until enough time had passed to remove the two from the situation. He prided himself on being a good actor—his _West Side Story _performance was proof enough—but he was an awful liar.

Which is why after cancelling their third morning coffee date in a row, he shut his phone off, unable to bear the _Love you, call me when you can LTT _text he would invariably receive moments later. He knew his boyfriend was starting to get worried, especially after the Chandler debacle, but he just couldn't fess up.

He slid the phone into the pocket of his apron and stepped behind the register. Luckily, The Lima Bean till was similar to that of his father's garage, so he caught on to its processes quickly. His proficiency earned him the blessing of not making drinks.

A few early birds ordered their regular drinks—not that _he _knew they were regulars, today being only his third day—but the cafe was mostly quiet. He gave in to boredom and turned his phone on, heart sinking as he read: _I love you more than all the universe has to offer. I'm here for you always. LTT. _He was too busy damning himself to all the circles of hell to notice a customer approaching the register. "Hey, can I get a—_Kurt_?!"

Kurt's head whipped up, knowing that voice anywhere. His boyfriend's shocked expression made his heart jump to his throat for a moment. "I—um—Blaine!" _Smooth, Hummel._ "I wasn't expecting you to come."

"Obviously." Kurt flinched, and Blaine's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, that was rude. But _this _is why you've been cancelling on me?" Kurt nodded sheepishly. "Why?"

The older boy held up one finger. "Alison!" he called over his shoulder.

"What?" the assistant manager shouted back from the kitchen.

"I'm taking my break!"

"Your shift just started!"

"Personal emergency!"

A head of red hair poked into the front room. "Personal emergency? Oh hey, Blainers!" Blaine waved. "Go on, take your time. No one's here anyway. You can still have your break."

"Bless your cow." Kurt tore off his apron, stepped around the counter, and grabbed Blaine's hand. He led them to their usual table. He twisted his phone around in his hands, avoiding eye contact with Blaine—and the rest of the world, if he could help it.

"Kurt." He still couldn't lift his eyes. "Kurt, look at me, _please_?" Blaine's hushed, insistent voice forced Kurt to succumb. The younger boy's eyes were kind and his smile sympathetic. His hand stretched across the table to cover Kurt's fidgety one. "Talk to me. I'm not mad."

"Not sure what to say. I work here now. I was embarrassed, so I lied to you. I'm sorry."

"Why were you embarrassed?"

"Because I'm here? Because instead of packing for college like every other kid my age, I'm making drinks for the same people who tormented me for years. Because this apron is horrible. Because I don't even make minimum wage. Because The Lima Bean is the absolute last place I want to be working."

"Oh Kurt, you're an idiot." Kurt's jaw dropped. "Hey, relax. You're an idiot for being embarrassed about this. The Lima Bean? That's not something to be ashamed of. We spend approximately sixty percent of our time together here. We have our own _table_. _That's _pathetic." Kurt laughed a little. "As for me? Kurt, I don't care if you pick up trash on the side of the highway in a sexy orange highlighter vest for the rest of your life. I will _always_ be proud of you." When tears filled Kurt's eyes, Blaine switched tacks to lighten the mood. "Besides, I've always had a sexy barista fantasy." Kurt snorted, startling an elderly man reading the newspaper a few tables over.

"I love you," Kurt laughed. "Even when you say things like that."

"I think you mean 'especially.'"

"Can I get you boys anything?" The boyfriends jumped at Alison's sudden appearance.

"Sorry, Alison, I'll get back to work."

"Everything worked out here?"

"Yeah." Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand."

"Excellent. Can't have Klaine out of whack. Whole universe'll implode."

"_Klaine_?" Kurt mouthed. Blaine shrugged.

"Come on." Alison yanked Kurt to his feet unceremoniously, shouting, "And no free drinks for the boyfriend!" over her shoulder as she ushered him back to his work station. "Unless he's being unbearably adorable."

"Aren't I always?"

"Can it, hobbit."

"By the way," the ginger whispered into Kurt's ear, "if you want sexy times behind—or on—the counter, just make sure you're closing." She cackled and danced away as Kurt squawked indignantly, leaving him to stammer an explanation to his very confused boyfriend.

* * *

For those of you who don't remember (or didn't read AVKS), "LTT" stand for "Less Than Three," because FANFICTION WON'T MOTHERFUCKING LET ME HAVE LESS THAN/GREATER THAN SIGNS.

(You will notice that my feelings on this issue have not waned in the past year.)

So, short little thing I wrote today. Nothing special. NEW HEADCANON: the reason Blaine and Kurt are so awkward in TLB in 4.01 is because they'd had lots of sex all over the place and now there were people around and awkward. (This may or may not be a future chapter. You have been warned.)

OKAY I NEED YOUR HELP. I was originally go to write this chapter about Burt teaching Blaine to ride a bike because Blaine's dad was never around to do that, but then I thought, I've already written that. So I asked Alison and she says she never read that, and I'm looking at the AVKS chapter list now, and I don't see it, but I know for a six million percent fact that I've read that story before, and I really, really feel like I wrote it. I remember specific diction and syntactical choices and everything. So can someone help me make my brain work right? I'm so confused.

Speaking of Alison...ay gurl, ur back.

Okay, I'm tired as fuck right now, so Imma upload this to S&C and Tumblr and be on my merry way for the night. Peace out homeskillets.

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	15. The Dishes

**The Dishes**

The gentles splash of hot water against porcelain didn't quite drown out the growled argument in the next room. Cherry blossoms mixed with leftover tacos in the air. A worn terrycloth towel passed through his fingers as he reached out to carefully grasp the wet dish being handed to him. He meticulously rubbed the cloth over the smooth surface, flicking away every drop of moisture before setting the dry plate on the counter. He automatically reached for the next dish.

"Thank you for helping me."

The unexpected voice made him jump, but he turned and smiled politely. "It's no trouble."

Carole sighed and scrubbed at a ladle. "This is what we get for buying the cheaper dishwasher: constant disrepair. Still, it should be one of the boys drying those."

"It's okay," Blaine shrugged, taking the ladle from her. "I think they're fighting over wrestling versus _America's Next Top Model_."

"I'm on Kurt's side there."

"Same. If I'm going to watch sweaty, half-naked guys roll around on the ground, they need to be actually attrac—" Blaine cut himself off, face turning red. He swallowed and avoided Carole's eye. "Anyways, I bet Kurt'll win this one."

"You know," Carole began, passing him a cutting board, "you don't have to be so nervous around me. You're not after _my_ son's virtue." Blaine's head whipped around, eyes wide and mouth gaping. Carole pressed on. "I mean, I absolutely think of Kurt as my son, don't get me wrong. But I'm not as watchful of him as Burt is. Plus," she added bitterly, "I already know Finn's virtue is gone, so..."

"I don't—I'm not—I mean we've—I—"

"Honey relax," Carole laughed, nudging his shoulder with her own. "I know that you didn't start dating Kurt to have sex with him, and I know the two of you have already done the deed."

Blaine wondered if he could successfully drown himself in the soapy water in the sink.

"And before you ask, Kurt didn't tell me. It was obvious when he came home from your house one morning glowing like the sun and grinning like a fool."

Even though he was incomparably mortified, a tiny smile betrayed him. "Does Burt know?"

"Of course not! He's not nearly observant enough, and he likes to tell himself Kurt is still seven years old."

"You think he'd be mad if he knew?"

Carole didn't answer for a minute, instead handing Blaine a bouquet of cutlery. "I don't think he'd be _mad_, per se...I think he'd be stunned that his little boy isn't as little as he had hoped, and upset that Kurt didn't wait until he was thirty." Blaine hung his head. "I also think he'd be relieved that Kurt did it with someone who so very obviously loves and respects him."

Blaine colored again, and the two went on washing and drying.

After a few minutes, Carole asked, "Looking forward to the new school year?"

"Not really," Blaine mumbled.

"But it's senior year! And you're reigning National Champions!"

"I guess."

"Is it Kurt?"

"...Do you think he'll miss me?"

Now it was Carole's turn to look surprised. "Oh honey, what kind of question is that?"

Blaine shrugged, eyes focused on the platter he was drying. "It's just...he's going to New York, I know he is, even if _he_ doesn't. He's going to go there and he's going to be amazing. Why would he hold himself back by having a boyfriend in Ohio?"

"Because he loves you."

Well that made it sound simple.

"Blaine, I can't promise you that you two will last this separation. Long-distance relationships are always hard, and many, if not most, fail. I can't promise you yours won't. I _can_ promise, right here, right now, that Kurt loves you, more than I think even he knows, and that he has no plans for leaving his beautiful Ohioan boyfriend behind."

With an _oompf_, Blaine wrapped his arms around Carole. "Thanks," he whispered. Carole titled her head onto Blaine's for a moment, and then they separated and finished washing the dishes, hoping that by the time they were all in their respective cupboards, Kurt and Finn would have settled on something to watch.

* * *

I am a despicable human being. September 21, 2012. That was the last time I updated this fic. I wish I had some grand, blanket excuse as to why I haven't updated in 115 days, but I really don't. It's senior year, and shit just sucks. I've been busy, and I've been lazy, and I've been at a loss for words. I have nothing more to offer you than that. I'm really sorry. I can't even promise you that I'll be updating more often that I have been. Alison annoyed me enough today to even get me to write this, so really, you have her to thank.

I'm sorry this is short, but it turns out none of my first four periods are particularly inspiring when it comes to words. I just hope it didn't suck.

So, I wasn't on to bitch about Blaine cheating on Kurt, but I don't think I need to tell you lot what complete and utter bullshit that was. (Actually, now that I think about it, I did post a few one-shots about it. So there.)

I HAVE A NEW USERNAME. Not sure why I didn't put this first in my A/N. Yes, gone is the KQ you knew and loved and here is nothingbutgoneness! "Nothing but goneness" is a quote from Markus Zusak's _The Book Thief, _which is one of only four books that have ever made me cry. I highly recommend you read it. This is also my new Tumblr URL but NOT my new Scarves & Coffee pen name, since S&C does not allow people to edit their usernames (*cough* Bullshit! *cough*). I changed my username for a number of reasons, the biggest being that I felt KQ was a little too immature and "old school" for the online presence I'm hoping to portray. But don't worry: I haven't actually gotten more mature.

Fun fact: this story was exactly 700 words long, not including the title.

That's all I have to say for now, other than I have two more one-shots to post today, even if I don't get to finish reading Act IV of _Othello_ tonight. So...see you soon!

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	16. The Dip

**The Dip**

The sun had dipped below the horizon several hours ago, but what was time when the long summer days dragged out endlessly, wrapping them up in a world of solitude and togetherness? They walked hand-in-hand, circling the neighborhood aimlessly beneath the stars. Their cell phones had been switched off, severing their connection with the rest of the planet. For now, forever, it was just them and the heavy midsummer night air.

As the night wore on, they moved closer together. First, just their hands touched, then their elbows, then their shoulders, then their hips, until finally one slipped his head onto the other's shoulder, and other's head followed suit. That position made walking a bit more complicated, but the closeness was absolutely worth it.

Talking was random, like a leaf caught up in the wind. For a while, they'd chatter about television, summer, school, friends, work, shopping, everything, and then fall silent. Nothing but their footfalls and their breathing and their heartbeats could fill the quiet, and it was enough.

An hour, a year into their walk, one pulled short. A small smirk graced his face, and then he was moving, tugging his boyfriend along with him, ignoring the other's whines of "Where are we going?" and "I am not a dog!" and "You're lucky I love you."

And suddenly they were in front of a public swimming pool, its gates closed and its lights off. "What're we doing _here_? It's closed, Blaine."

"I can see that, Kurt." Blaine easily hopped the four-foot chain link fence encircling the pool complex. He then spun around and extended his hand. "Coming, good sir?"

"Is this illegal?"

"Probably."

"Fine." As gracefully as he could manage it (which was not very gracefully at all), Kurt climbed over the fence and landed with an _oof_ on his feet on the concrete of the patio. "I don't understand why we're here."

Rolling his eyes, Blaine led the way through the darkened complex toward the blue-black water. "Well, we're at a swimming pool, so I think it's safe to hazard a guess at _swimming_."

"Hardy-har-har."

It isn't until they actually arrived at the edge of the pool and Blaine dropped his hand that Kurt realized something important. "Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"We don't have swim trunks."

"Nope." Blaine pulled his polo over his head after quickly undoing his bowtie.

"Sooooo...what are we going to swim in?"

Blaine just gave him a roguish wink before kicking off his loafers and slipping his belt out of its loops. As he unbuttoned his shorts, he nodded casually to Kurt's outfit, always more complex than Blaine's. "You might want to take a few layers off before hopping in."

Kurt's eyes were wide and his jaw hung loose. "I am not swimming in my _boxers_, Blaine!"

"Who said anything about boxers?" And just like that, Blaine shucked both his shorts and his boxers and was proudly standing in the nude.

"_Blaine Devon Anderson!_" Kurt quickly checked over his shoulder, but the changing rooms blocked most of the pool area from the empty roads. He looked back just in time to see Blaine leap into the air and land with a solid splash in the pool. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod." Kurt knelt by the edge of the pool and hissed, "Blaine, get out of there _now_!"

Blaine merely stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend before diving for the bottom of the pool. He settled cross-legged on the floor, motioning for Kurt to join him.

"I'm not coming down there!" Kurt snapped, not entirely sure if Blaine could even hear him. "You can drown for all I care. Kurt Hummel does _not _skinny dip."

Blaine still didn't come up.

"I mean it you know! I'll dangle my feet in the water, fine, but my clothes are staying _on_ my body."

No response.

"Seriously, Blaine, this isn't funny. You're freaking me out."

Nothing.

"Oh Jesus Christ." Before he could stop himself, Kurt was shedding garments—he'd never admit it, but he _was_ kind of getting warm walking around in skinny jeans and a vest over a long-sleeved shirt—and diving in the pool. Before he was completely submerged, a soppy-wet head of curls poked through the surface, gasping for breath.

"God, Kurt! I thought you were going to let me die down there!"

Kurt resurfaced, his once-coiffed hair now lying flat and lifeless against his forehead. "I wish I had, you dick. I can't believe you got me to going skinny dipping."

Blaine paddled closer to his miffed boyfriend and wrapped his arms around his smooth, shiny body. "I can make you do anything. It's part of my charm. Besides, I though you liked my dick."

Kurt swallowed a mouthful of water and started choking. "B-_Blaine_! You can't—you can't just _say_ stuff like that."

"Of course I can, I'm your boyfriend! It's my job to embarrass you."

"I thought that was my father's job."

"Yes, but the key difference between my job and your father's job is that I also get to do this." Blaine ducked under the water and took Kurt's cock into his mouth.

"Oh _god_!" Blaine gently guided Kurt back until he was against the side of the pool, giving the older boy something to grab onto. Kurt's head flew backward as Blaine's tongue swirled around his shaft. He started making mewling noises, and a tiny portion of his brain remembered that Blaine needed oxygen at some point, but he couldn't bring himself to care because Blaine's fingers were trailing toward his entrance as his lips sucked greedily at the head of his cock. Just as the pad of one finger pressed lightly but firmly against the muscles of his entrance, Kurt came with a yelp into Blaine's mouth, instantly becoming boneless.

Blaine's hand worked him through the last throes of his orgasm, and then his head was above the water again and his lips were attacking Kurt's neck. Kurt was melting into the water, so Blaine's arms held him safely above surface. "Come on, you." Blaine heaved his blissed-out boyfriend onto the patio and then clambered out himself, fetching two towels from a pile hidden in an alcove by the bathrooms. He dried Kurt off and then himself, and handed the older boy his clothes. "I am not helping you get dressed. I'll _un_dress you any day of the week. But since I generally disapprove of you putting clothes, you're doing this one on your own, lazy bones."

"You're an ass."

"Again, I thought you liked my—"

"Who's there?!"

Blaine and Kurt exchanged a terrified look. The swiveling white beam of an industrial flashlight peeked around the corner of the changing rooms. The two silently scrambled into their boxers and pants as the sound of boots crunching on gravel grew closer. "Come on out, I know you're in there. This pool's closed after ten."

Blaine, who forwent socks whenever possible, slid into his shoes and grabbed the remnants of their outfits. "Come on!" he hissed, grabbing Kurt's hand just as the older boy slipped into his shirt, which hung open. The two crept quickly to the opposite fence just as the cop rounded the corner. "HEY!"

"RUN!"

They hopped the fence and made a break for it, running hand-in-hand and tripping their way toward the road. They were only half a mile from Blaine's house, which was mercifully empty for the night. They could hear the angry police officer on their heels, but they were running too fast and laughing too hard to care.

When they got back to the Anderson residence, Kurt would be indignant over the travesty of running barefoot such a long ways over grass and concrete and dirt and horrified to realize he'd exposed so much skin for so long and livid that Blaine even put him in that situation to begin with, while Blaine would simply be mournful over the bowtie he dropped at some point during their mad dash from the law.

But for the moment, they were untouchable as they flew through the inky black night.

* * *

So, like, a month this time, right? Not so bad. Alison prompted this one to me. I can't believe it took someone a year and a half to prompt me skinny dipping. Honestly.

Typing in all caps is not nearly enough to express the utter intensity of the emotions still coursing through me as a result of last night's episode. Just know that I am not entirely sure I'm still alive.

Shout-out to Taylor who I'm sure is never going to read this but had a really shitty couple of days this week and whom I love with all my heart and who I know deserves better.

I want to tell you something exciting from my life but the truth is I'm an preternaturally boring person. The highlight of my days are when we watch _The West Wing _in AP Government. It's my favorite TV show. (I'm not counting Glee in this assessment because I'm actually more into Glee for the fandom than the show and, lbh people, Glee sucks 85% of the time.)

So...peace out, and I'll try to have a new chapter for you soon! It'll probably come faster if someone prompts me something reeeeeeeally good.

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	17. The Bike

**The Bike**

When he pulled onto the street, he expected—well, not this. He didn't expect a driveway crammed with wrenches and footballs and soccer balls and basketballs and bats and tire pumps and boxes overflowing with old clothes and tires and rakes and gardening supplies and was that a _scooter_? He carefully parallel-parked along the curb in front of the house and exited the vehicle, approaching the chaotic driveway with caution. He could barely see the open garage door through the jungle of junk. "Um...hello?"

A round face popped up above a tower topped by a broken microwave. "Oh hey Blaine!"

"Hey Finn...what exactly is going on here? Are you guys having a garage sale?"

"That wasn't our intention, but it looks like we're going to have to," a smooth voice said from off to his left. He turned to see his boyfriend weaving through mounds of stuff, wearing—_oh dear god_—a skintight Under Armor shirt and even tighter biking shorts. He wore stylish sneakers on his feet. Kurt wrapped an arm around Blaine's waist, pulled him in for a quick kiss, and then surveyed the contents of his garage before him. "We're looking for our bikes. We've found mine, Finn's, and Carole's. We've even found my old one, but it's too short for my dad. I bet my dad's is in this mess somewhere, he's just hiding it so he doesn't have come with."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you guys had plans today." Blaine reached into his pocket to pull his keys back out. "I'll just head home, let you guys have your biking trip."

He turned to walk to his car, but was stopped by a laugh and a hand gripping his. "Don't be stupid, silly!" Kurt tugged on his hand so he spun back into Kurt's arms. "You can come with us! My old bike is the perfect size for you, and I've got some workout clothes you can borrow, and that gel helmet will protect you if you crash!"

"Oh ha ha," Blaine retorted, rolling his eyes. He tried to push down the rising dread in his stomach. "No, that's okay, this is a family thing. I've got some stuff I've been ignoring at home, anyways."

"Nonsense!" Both boys looked up to see Carole approaching them, wheeling a deep blue Schwinn in front of her. "We'd love to have you come with us, Blaine! You're family!"

Redness started to creep up Blaine's neck, and he tried to fight it with all he had. "Honestly, I don't want to intrude, and Kurt, you know you hate it when I get sweat all over your clothes, that's why you won't let me hug you after I finish boxing." He started to back away slowly. "You guys have fun, I'll stop by tomorrow, _Real Housewives_ marathon?"

"Blaine?"

"Yeah."

"Come here."

"Okay."

Blaine trudged back to Kurt's side. Kurt grabbed his boyfriend's hand and dragged him to the porch, where they sat beside each other on the steps. "Blaine, you want to tell me what's going on here? I'm offering you time spent together, which we both know is a precious commodity right now, and you're bailing on it? You've never once chosen going home over staying here when you had the option. Talk to me?"

With a shuddering sigh, Blaine rested his elbows on his bent knees and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Ekanreeabeek," he mumbled.

"What did you—"

"I SAID I CAN'T RIDE A BIKE, KURT!"

The entire yard fell silent. Even the shuffling going on in the garage stopped. Blaine's face was flaming red now, and he wanted nothing more than a giant hole to open beneath him and swallow him whole.

"Oh honey, please, no, please don't cry." Blaine hadn't even noticed the tears that sprang to his eyes until Kurt pointed them out. The older boy slid closer to Blaine and wrapped him up in a tight hug, one hand rubbing up and down his back soothingly while the other pressed Blaine's face into his shoulder. "It's okay, it's not a big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal!" Blaine pulled away to stare pitifully at his boyfriend. "I'm going to be a senior in high school in a matter of weeks and I can't even ride a damn_ bike_. How _pathetic_ is that?"

"Oh my god, Blaine, you are _not_ pathetic. So you missed this one thing. That doesn't make you a failure. It's not too late to learn."

"Blaine." The boy looked up to see Burt standing over him. "How come you never learned to ride a bike? I'm not judgin' you, but I always thought learnin' to ride a bike was something every kid did."

Blaine hugged himself tightly about the middle in an attempt to take up as little space as possible. "My dad...he's never really been interested in being a dad. He made sure my grades were good when I was little, and took me out of my old school when...when things got bad, but he was always really busy. His brother Andrew taught Cooper when he was little, but he died when I was an infant, so he never got to teach me. By the time I was old enough to learn, Cooper was a full-fledged teenager. He didn't have time to teach me, either, and my mom has never been outdoorsy, so...I just...never learned. I guess I made up for it by dancing a lot, which, as it turns out, does _not_ endear first-graders to you."

Kurt gently pried Blaine's hands from his torso and squeezed them in his own. "I'm sorry no one took the time for you, Blaine. You deserve better than that."

"Come on kid."

Blaine looked back up at Burt, eyes still shining. "Sir?"

"Come on, get up. We're gonna teach you how to ride a bike."

* * *

"Okay, first thing's first: sit on the bike."

"What if I fall off and die?"

"Jesus, Blaine, if you even think about calling me a drama queen after this I'll replace your gel with Nair."

Blaine stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend. He had changed into a white tank top and some basketball shorts, his usual boxing gear, which had been waiting in the trunk of his car for his trip to the gym the next day. Finn and Carole were already twenty minutes into their bike ride, deciding to go ahead in order to give Blaine some semblance of privacy. Blaine heard Carole warning her son very sternly against texting all of the New Directions to let them know that Blaine Anderson didn't know how to ride a bike at seventeen years old.

"Are you going to move some time, or are you just going to stare it?"

Blaine pouted at Kurt. "What happened to the supportive boyfriend?"

"He left after the third time you refused to touch the bike."

With a put-upon sigh, Blaine gripped the black handlebars and swung a leg over the frame of the bicycle. He stood with one leg on either side. "Now what?"

"Now you sit."

"Won't it topple over?"

"Oh Jesus." Kurt stepped in front of the bike and placed his hands on top of Blaine's. He leaned in close and stared into his eyes. "Blaine Devon Anderson. Would I ever let anything happen to you?"

Blaine looked abashed. "No."

"No, I wouldn't. So stop being a worrywart and sit down."

Blaine did as he was told. Kurt kept a grip on the handlebars while his father held a hand on the back of the seat. "Okay, now kick back with your left leg. You're going to push the kickstand up."

"But won't that—"

"_Blaine_."

A deep breath, and then Blaine kicked back his heel. The kickstand snapped into place. All of a sudden, the bike was significantly less stable. "Oh my god, Kurt, oh my _god_—"

"Hey, shush, look at me." Wide hazel eyes found soft blue ones. "Everything is fine. Just put your feet on the pedals, don't worry about balancing, Dad and I got you."

With shaky limbs Blaine settled his feet atop the pedals, fingers gripping the handles so tightly his knuckles were white. "You're doing awesome, Blaine. Now push down with your right foot."

Blaine pushed down, but his foot slipped off, spinning the pedal about its axis. Blaine growled in frustration. He tried again, but missed once more. "God I'm so stupid."

"Blaine, stop, you're not stupid," Burt said. "It's harder to teach these things to older people, everyone knows that."

"Yeah, well right now I feel about eighty, so."

"Just try it again, sport."

This time, Blaine carefully placed the center of his foot on the center of the pedal and pressed down. The pedal rotated forward, automatically moving his left foot back. "Oh _Jesus_, I'm moving."

Kurt was grinning wildly. "There you go! You're doing it! Keep going, keep going!"

When the right pedal was at the bottom of the circle, and the left pedal at the top, Blaine switched his focus to the latter, pressing down with his left foot. The process began again, and a megawatt smile broke out on Blaine's face. "I'm doing it, Kurt! I'm doing it!"

Kurt bent down to press a hard kiss to Blaine's lips. "I'm very, very proud of you, Blaine."

"Come on, kid, take us to the street."

Kurt stepped out of the way, still keeping one hand on a handlebar, and let Blaine guide the bike toward the end of the drive. Blaine slowly but surely pedaled forward, concentrating on keeping upright and finding a smooth rhythm. When the small group got to the street, Blaine gently turned the handlebars without any prompting. He began to pedal faster, and Kurt let go of the handlebar with a proud smile. Blaine's feet were whirring, and he was _flying_. "Burt this is _great!_" When he didn't get a response, he frowned. "Burt?" He looked over his shoulder to see Burt standing beside his son about a hundred yards back. Blaine hadn't even noticed Burt had let go of his seat.

"Holy crap," Blaine muttered, turning forward again to continue biking. His eyes went blew wide when he saw where he was headed. He started to panic and jerked the handlebars to the side. He squeezed the brakes tightly and the wheels locked up, stopping the bike's movement—but not Blaine's. Blaine flew over the handlebars and landed on something green and crackly.

"BLAINE!" Pounding footsteps rushed to his side, and flustered hands pulled him from the bush. "Oh my god, Blaine, are you alright, say something, oh my god—"

"Kurt, stop, I'm okay." Blaine stood and brushed himself off. "This conveniently placed bush broke my fall. I'm sore as hell, but I'll be okay. Nothing feels broken."

Burt finally caught up to his son. "You okay, sport?" Blaine nodded. "How was it?"

A tiny smile. "I _flew_."

"Yeah, I saw," Kurt joked. "Don't ever do it again."

"Yes sir." Blaine stepped forward to retrieve the bike and hissed. "Okay, I may have twisted an ankle."

Kurt began to fuss over his boyfriend. Burt grabbed the bike and Blaine's discarded helmet. "I'll take this back to the house. Kurt, you okay helping him back?"

"I got him, Dad." Burt set off down the street. Kurt wrapped an arm securely around Blaine's waist, and Blaine slung an arm of his own around Kurt's shoulders. The two began to hobble back toward the Hudson-Hummel house. "So, how was it?"

Blaine let out a carefree laugh. "It was amazing. I can't wait to try it again. I can't believe I've been missing out on that all these years."

"I'm proud of you Blaine." The younger boy looked up in surprise at his boyfriend's soft tone. "I know this was a lot for you, but you did it, and even though you're a klutz and you managed to injure yourself on your very first try, you still did an amazing job. I'm so proud of you."

Blaine tipped his head to the side so it rested on Kurt's shoulder. "Thanks, love. That means a lot."

A mischievous grin broke out on Kurt's face. "Maybe later I can reward you by taking a ride of my own—_if you know what I mean_."

Blaine's answering groan was enough to make the boys limp faster toward the house.

* * *

I don't even know how long it's been since I've updated, so just know I'm sorry it's been a long time. There was someone I was talking to about this chapter-which was inspired by Zavocado's _Go Your Own Way_-but I don't remember who it was. It's past 1:30 in the morning here. I'm tired.

This one's for Alison, who's staying up late to read it even though she has school tomorrow just because I asked her to.

Maybe more writing over this hiatus? Maybe? Probably not? I dunno.

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	18. The Goodbye

**The Goodbye**

He woke up with dread already weighing on his stomach like a cannonball. He lay in bed an extra twenty minutes, following the whirring ceiling fan with dizzy eyes. The movement dried his eyes out, which was good, because if he allowed himself to, he could cry until he fell asleep again.

It was stupid, he knew. The separation would have happened in a few weeks anyway. But this was different, there was no denying that. This was a separation that had the possibility of being permanent.

He finally dragged himself out of bed, numbly walking through a pitiful mimicry of his normal morning routine, barely taking the time to run his fingers through his wild hair before trudging downstairs. His cereal tasted more like the box than like Cheerios. He only managed a few mouthfuls before pushing the bowl away in defeat.

Still awake earlier than anyone else in the house, he curled up in an armchair in the living room and stared at the blank television. Some time passed, minutes, hours, until a knock on the door pulled him from his reverie. He shuffled to answer it. When he saw who the caller was, his face finally crumpled and the tears fell.

"Oh honey, oh honey no, come here." He was immediately engulfed in a hug, his shaking body melting into that of the caller. "It's gonna be fine, he's gonna be fine. Come on, let's sit down."

He allowed himself to be guided back to the living room, where he collapsed on the couch, strong arms still around him. Those arms rocked him back and forth gently, the soft voice above uttering comforting nonsense at him.

Heavy footfalls on the stairs, and then an early-morning gruff voice: "Kurt? Who was at the door?"

Blaine peered over his boyfriend's shoulder at Burt. "Hey, it's just me. I...I came over early. For him. For all of you. I'm...I'm not entirely sure what to do here."

"You're doing it," Kurt rasped, pulling back and wiping at his eyes. "You're being here."

With a sigh, Burt sank into the armchair Kurt previously occupied. "Carole's all kinds of hysterical up there. She's about to take a shower now, hopefully that'll calm her down."

"Finn still asleep?"

"It's before noon, of course he is. I keep telling him, he can't get used to this up-'til-two-sleep-'til-one schedule, but does he listen? Well, he'll just have to suffer through the culture shock."

Blaine smiled slightly. "That's one of the reasons Cooper picked LA over New York. A city that never sleeps is not a good city for Cooper 'Actual Walking Dead' Anderson."

The three sat in silence as the shower turned on and, several minutes later, off again. Blaine stretched out on the couch and pulled Kurt into his embrace, keeping his hands firmly on Kurt's stomach as though to stop him from drifting away.

Carole eventually joined them, dressed in sweats and a ratty shirt, looking thoroughly haggard despite having just awoken. "You boys want breakfast?" Her eyebrows shot up when she spotted her stepson's boyfriend. "Hello, Blaine, I...I wasn't aware you were coming today." Tears sprang to her eyes. "I'm afraid I won't be much fun today."

"Oh, no, Carole please. I'm just here to...be here, I guess. I know how tough this is going to be on all of you, Finn included, and I just wanted to be here for support. If I'm in the way, though, I can certainly leave—"

"No." Kurt pressed his back into Blaine's chest, pinning him to the couch. "You're not going anywhere. There's enough leaving going on today, don't you think?"

"Of course." Blaine kissed a spot just behind Kurt's ear softly. "I'll stay as long as you'll have me."

"So, breakfast?" Carole headed for the kitchen, but Blaine started to slide out from behind Kurt. "No, let me, you should sit down—"

Carole smiled softly at Blaine. "Thanks sweetie, but I'd like to cook my son breakfast one last time, if you don't mind."

Blaine blushed scarlet. "Of course. Sorry."

"Nonsense. You just snuggle with Kurt there, I'll try to get breakfast ready before Finn—"

Just then Finn tumbled into view. His hair was bedraggled and his pajamas askew. He'd clearly just woken up. He caught sight of the small crowd in the living room and paused, his hand halfway through scrubbing at an eye. "Uh...hi?"

"Hey Finn," Blaine said softly.

"You want breakfast, sweetie?" Carole asked, staring at her son intently. "I can make pancakes or waffles or French toast or—or I can make all three—"

"Mom, c'mon, don't—don't cry—" Finn wrapped his mother up in a tight hug. The other men looked away thoughtfully. "I'm gonna be fine," he murmured into her shoulder.

Carole pulled herself from her son's arms and wiped at her face. "I'm going to go make breakfast." Then she disappeared.

Finn collapsed into the second armchair. "So...how're you guys doing?"

Kurt threw a pillow at his face.

* * *

Breakfast was a tense affair. Carole made an overabundance of food, but no one was very hungry. Blaine valiantly attempted to keep a pleasant conversation going, but to no avail. Finally, Carole slammed her fork down and glared at her son. "You're not going."

"Mom..."

"No, Finn Christopher Hudson. You're not going. If you're not old enough to know that you can't get a girl pregnant via hot tub, you aren't old enough to join the army."

"Mom, that was two years ago! I know how that stuff happens now, Kurt explained it all to me, he was very thorough."

"And very uncomfortable," Kurt muttered.

"I'll be _fine_, Mom, it's just boot camp. No one ever gets killed in boot camp."

"There's always a first!"

"Carole—"

"No Burt, no! I already lost someone to the military, I'm not losing anyone else!"

"Carole he's eighteen."

"I don't care!"

Blaine and Kurt kept their eyes glued to the table. In all honesty, both thought that what Finn was endeavoring to do was rather stupid—after all, he was known for getting up to his ears in trouble before he even knew what was going on, namely with Quinn and the baby and then with nearly marrying Rachel—but neither was going to say anything about it. Finn was a man, and it was his own stupid decision to make.

"Finn, you aren't ready for something like this!"

"Then I'll get ready!"

"This isn't some test you can BS your way through, Finn! This is life and death, actual death, actual dying."

"Thanks ma, I got that."

"Don't talk back to me Finn, this is serious."

"You think I don't get that?" Finn jerked to his feet, anger consuming his face. "I understand what I'm doing, but I have to do it! I have to redeem Dad's name, I have to make up for what he did, I have to be better, because I am _worth_ something and it's time the world saw that."

"I'm with Finn." The words were out of Kurt's mouth before he could stop them, and everyone looked at him, surprised, though none more than him. He swallowed thickly before continuing. "I...I don't know what I'm doing yet, future-wise, but had I gotten into NYADA, I'd be heading for New York in a few weeks. Even though it's safer to be gay in New York than it is in Ohio, it's still dangerous. And I'd be doing it on my own. Well, with Rachel, but let's be honest, she'd be worthless in a fight. That's a big deal. But I'm not a child anymore, and neither is Finn. He has the right to make his own decisions, stupid as they may be."

"Hey!"

"Shut up, Finn, I'm agreeing with you."

Carole glared at her stepson's betrayal. "You think this is a good idea."

Kurt sighs_. I should've kept my mouth shut_. "No, of course I don't. Finn has no business carrying a weapon larger than a butter knife. But he's a man now and it's not my business."

Finn still wasn't sure if he was supposed to look affronted or relieved. He turned to his mother. "Look, Mom, I get why you don't want me to do this, honest. But I'm doing it. And I don't know about you, but I don't want to spend our last..." He glanced at his watch for a long while, doing some apparently tough mental math. "...two hours and seventeen minutes together fighting."

Carole's face crumpled. She stood from her seat and hugged her son tightly. "I don't know what I'm going to do if I lose you."

"I'll be fine, Mom," Finn murmured. "Just as long as I don't do anything stupid, like shoot myself in the leg or something."

"Not funny, Finn Christopher."

Blaine heard a small sniffle, and he looked over to see Kurt's eyes watering again. He laced his fingers through Kurt's under the table and offered him a small smile.

* * *

Two hours and ten minutes later, Finn hauled his bags into the back of Puck's pick-up. The two best friends were driving to the recruiting office where Finn was to receive his official instructions. Finn was saying goodbye to his family here.

He started with Blaine. The two exchanged a handshake that flowed seamlessly into a one-armed back-slapping hug. "Thanks for everything, bro," Finn said. "You take care of my brother now, you hear?"

"Yeah I got you." Blaine grinned. "Don't do anything too dumb, Hudson. Someone's gotta cheer for the Buckeyes with me."

"You know what Anderson? You're all right." Finn turned to Kurt next, who rolled his eyes and hugged Finn tightly. "I'm gonna miss you, bro."

"I guess I'll miss you too."

"You guess?"

"I still haven't forgiven you for leaving your nasty jock strap everywhere."

"God, Kurt, it was _one time_—"

"—open my sock drawer to find _that_ and it wasn't even _clean_—"

"—don't know how it got there, honest—"

"Okay boys," Burt interjected roughly.

The stepbrothers hugged again and then Finn stepped back. He eyed Burt unsurely, as if trying to decide how to say goodbye. In a motion eerily similar to his son's, Burt rolled his eyes and pulled Finn into his arms. "You stay safe," he said gruffly, stepping back to look his stepson in the eye. "I don't want anyone knocking on my door bringing me bad news."

"I promise." The two exchanged a firm, silent handshake.

Finally, Finn turned to his mom. "Mom..."

Without warning, Carole launched herself at her son, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Whoa, Ma!" Finn rubbed his hands up and down his mom's back. "I'll be fine, I promise."

"I love you so much, Finn."

"I love you too, Mom. You're the greatest mom a guy could ask for. I'm gonna miss you."

"God I'll miss you too."

Finn pulled back and smiled down, eyes shining. "I've gotta go. Can't be late on my first day." He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket, earning a small, watery chuckle from his mother. "I'll see you all later, I promise."

With a short wave, he climbed into the passenger seat of the truck. As Puck pulled away from the curb, the small family on the lawn looked after him. When the truck turned a corner and disappeared from view, Kurt buried his face in Blaine's shoulder, the shorter boy's arms immediately encircling him. "He'll be fine," Blaine murmured. "Finn'll be fine."

All they could do now was hope.

* * *

What's this? Two updates in, like, a week? It's okay, people, no need to call the Winchesters, I'm not possessed. (I mean, if you wanted to call them to my house, that's fine, but no promises that Dean will leave wholly unmolested.) I realized while I was writing the last chapter that at some point during the summer, Finn went off to the Army, and I love it when the canon story gives me something to write about. Despite being in JROTC for three years, I know very little about the actual recruitment process (other than the Navy is kickass at recruiting, lemme tell you what), so I highly doubt that Finn would go to a recruiting office after already signing up, but fuck it, I didn't know what else to say.

I would like to state for the record that I am entirely on Team Anti-Finn, in canon. Finn Hudson is an incomparable asshole who never deserved the position as leader of the New Directions and who fucks shit up way more often than he makes it better. I can't stand his character and (no offense, Cory) I can't stand his voice. I really, really hate Finn.

But god do I love fanon!Finn. And this is a piece of fanon!Finn for ya.

(Also if you're wondering why I didn't include Rachel in this scene it's because I hate her too.)

I would like to offer my apologies to Alison, whom I promised this chapter yesterday. Whoops.

If any of you are high school seniors attending Grad Bash at Universal Studios in Orlando, FL, on April 19th, _please_ let me know. I'd love to hook up with some people there. (Not "hook up," ya nastay.)

Don't know when I'll update again, but I could use some really good prompts. I have a whole list of old prompts, but none of them are really speaking to me right now (ugh that sounded pretentious), so if you have something you'd like me to write about let me know!

Peace lovelies!

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	19. The Lovers

**The Lovers**

She loves her job, she really does. Sure, there were some downsides. Like the assholes who come in right at opening and expect their coffees ready five minutes ago. Or scrubbing out the grinders. Or taking out the trash. Or pulling the buns from the crazy-hot oven in the middle of summer. Or wiping up vomit when a lactose-intolerant person puts cream in his coffee and upchucks all over the welcome mat. Or the bored high school kids who come in to cause trouble.

Okay, she hates her job.

But with the bad comes the good, and the best part of her job is the boys. She knows their names are Kurt and Blaine—how can she not, she writes their names on paper cups nearly every day, and she works with the former—but she calls them The Lovers. It's a bit of an antiquated term, something out of a bad chick novel, but it's just so perfect. They are lovers. Unlike the fleeting teen couples that breeze in and out like lightning bugs on June nights, these two are The Real Deal. They are It. They are The Ones.

She watches them pull out each other's chairs, and lock ankles under the table, and sketch out plans for their future (one future shared) on the backs on napkins, and laugh so hard coffee spurts from their noses. (This is a particular problem for Kurt, and as much as he kicks his boyfriend's shin under the table, the shorter boy never stops laughing.) She keeps track of them out of the corner of her eye at their table (_their _table, she's conscientious about keeping people away, even when they're not in the café), and she swears they fall a little more in love every time their eyes meet.

Oddly enough, she thinks the fights are her favorite part of their relationship. She's never seen a real fight, a shouting and screaming death match (both are far too composed for that), although she did hear that they once had a pretty serious argument in the café once, before they were together and before she started working there. No, all she's seen are squabbles and bickering, which sound unpleasant, but are actually quite entertaining. The two will whisper intently to each other, shooting daggers with their eyes, until one gets fed up and stomp outside. The one left behind will sit, compose himself, wipe the tears of anger from his eyes, and calmly follow his boyfriend outside. She watches through the large glass windows as they hug tightly and apologize profusely, lips fluttering near each other's ears with a stream of _I'm _sorry's and _No it was _me's. They'll come back inside holding hands and finish their abandoned coffees. They won't kiss, though, not until they get to whoever's car they drove here. It's just too risky.

Of course, the risk of homophobia here is much lower than in other Lima establishments. She makes sure of that. Her grandmother [?] owns the café, so she pretty much has the run of the place. Any hint of hatred directed toward The Lovers and the offenders are gone. She knows the boys were grateful to her, but she never accepts thanks—and she never accepted money. She's stopped charging The Lovers for their drinks and snacks months ago, claiming that they were the only reasons she showed up to work every day.

And sometimes that's true.

She hopes someday she'd find a love like theirs. The only boyfriend she's ever had cheated on her after three weeks, so she can't imagine what it would be like to find someone as completely in sync with her as the boys were with each other. She can't fathom having one other person know her better than she knows herself, and knowing that person just as intimately. If she's being honest with herself, which she often is, it terrifies her to think that she could be so familiar with one person, but The Lovers took that fear head on, and she admires them so much for it.

They're friends, she and The Lovers, often chatting amiably while she makes their coffees and when they go up for refills. But she prefers to watch them, creepy as she feels sometimes, because they really are a sight to see. She can only compare them to her grandparents, who have been married for sixty-eight years come September and still look at each other as though they are falling in love at first sight with each stolen glance. It makes no sense for two high school boys to look so _comfortable_ with each other, but there they are, at their table, nearly every day during the summer.

Hiring Kurt was the easiest decision her grandmother ever made. He fits in so naturally in the space, and is an incredible worker, if sometimes a dramatic one. But being with him behind the counter a few days a week gives her the opportunity to pester him for details. She is determined to figure out just how they _work_, how they can possibly be so in tune after only a year together. Kurt can never really offer an explanation, unless staring wistfully into the distance with a secretive smile is some kind of answer she has yet to decipher.

She never says anything to them, but she fears for Kurt going to New York. (As much as he tries to deny it, he is going there, even if she has to help Blaine kidnap him in the middle of the night and stick his ass on a plane.) She wants to believe they can survive the distance, but so few ever do. She shoves those thoughts from her mind; they are forever, that is a given.

With a sigh, she looks at the clock and grabs two cups. She scrawls a K on one and a B on the other and begins to make a grande nonfat mocha and medium whip. They'll be coming in any moment, fingers intertwined and arms swinging between them. They'll seem so surprised to have their drinks already made for them, even though they have been for the past four or five months. She'll slide them their cups, ignoring whomever's at the counter entirely because they just don't matter as much. Blaine will protest, and Kurt will promise to stay late at the end of his next shift (even though they all know he won't because he has a date with Blaine afterward and will rush home to scrub the scent of stale coffee from his skin). They'll sit at their table and talk, or maybe not. Maybe they'll pass little notes back and forth on ripped scraps of napkin. Maybe they'll stare out the window, creating stories for the passersby they'll never know. Maybe they'll sit side by side instead of across from each other, and one will tip his head onto the other's shoulder, and the other will rest his own on top. Maybe they'll simply exist as a single life shared.

She looks up with a smile when the bell above the door chimes.

* * *

So, another chapter. This one is told from the point of view of Alison the barista, whom you may remember from previous chapters. This ended up being a little more stream-of-consciousness than I intended, but oh well. And Jesus, you have no idea how long it took me to settle on a tense to write it. I flitted from past to present like I'd never written before in my life. It was a mess.

But whatever. I hope you liked this one. Those of you who follow my writing blog on Tumblr may have noticed that I published this chapter there, like, eight hours ago, and I did that for Alison (IRL, not OC), WHICH THAT WAS A BITCH AND A HALF TO DO ON JANKETY SCHOOL COMPUTERS LEMME TELL YOU WHAT.

I already have a topic for the next chapter, so hopefully I'll have that for you soon. You guys happy with the recent influx of updates? I do care about you guys, honestly.

Well, off to watch more _Supernatural_!

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	20. The Scandal

**The Scandal**

"No."

"Please?"

"_No_."

"_Please_?"

"What would make you think this is a good idea?"

"We never celebrated your birthday."

"With good reason!"

"You were wallowing."

"I was not _wallowing_."

"I'm not saying you didn't have good _reason_ to wallow, just that that's what you were doing."

"So why are we celebrating now?"

"Because your period of wallowing has officially ended."

"But why do we have to go _there_?"

"Because as I recall, last time we went, you didn't have a particularly good time."

"Neither did you."

"Well, it was fun 'til the end."

"True."

"So you'll go?"

"No!"

"Come on, it was your idea to go in the first place."

"And look how well that turned out."

"You're not convincing me, Blaine!"

"Fine. I promise that if we go, not a drop of that elicit elixir will touch my lips, lest it first touches yours."

"Don't waggle your eyebrows at me, Blaine Anderson, you aren't cute."

"Oh, I think you'll find I'm very cute."

"Fine."

"I knew I could break you down."

"No, do not come _near_ me, Blaine, you aren't kissing me right now, I'm mad—"

"—come here, Kurt, let me thank you—"

"—no, I swear, I will _leave you_ you _ape_—"

"Was that a chest hair joke?"

"Oh god, not this again—"

"—'cause I wax it for you, I know you like smoothn—mmph."

"There. Now I've kissed you. So shut up."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Kurt slammed the door to Blaine's station wagon shut, arms wrapping around his center protectively. Last time he was in this parking lot, he watched his drunk boyfriend stumble home after groping him in the backseat. And yes, Kurt followed him to ensure that he didn't end up hitching a ride with a serial killer or _whatever_ he could get up to when he was drunk, but that didn't stop him from being pissed and avowing never to set foot in that grungy establishment again.

Yet here he was, letting said boyfriend lead him excitedly into the falling-down gay bar on the outskirts of Lima. Their fake IDs were much more believable this time, as Blaine had called Puck (in LA, honestly) and asked him to hook them up. So now Kurt was 22 and actually named Kurt Hummel.

Once inside, Blaine ordered a Diet Coke for himself and a Manhattan iced tea for Kurt. When Kurt took his first sip, he had to admit that it tasted pretty good. Before he knew it, he'd sucked down the entire glass, and the world was looking a bit fuzzy around the edges.

"Hey Blaine," he whisper-shouted, sidling up behind his boyfriend where he sat on a barstool. His arms snaked clumsily around the shorter boy's waist. "Hey, hey Blaine, c'mon, let's dance."

Laughing, Blaine stood and helped safely guide Kurt to the dance floor. "I though you swore you'd never listen to this bad eighties pop again."

The song changed, and Kurt flung his arms atop Blaine's shoulders. "That was before, silly. But I think…" His voice dropped to a sloppy whisper. "…I think I may be a little bit tipsy."

Blaine bit back a grin with all his might. "Really now."

Kurt nodded sincerely. "Just a bit."

"Well then." Blaine twirled Kurt halfway around so that he could place his hands on his hips and sway them back and forth. "I should make sure no one takes advantage of you."

"Mhm."

"Make sure no one attempts to solicit you in your state of incapacitated judgment." His lips trailed up and down the long marble column of Kurt's neck.

"Mm, yeah, talk dirty to me."

Blaine had to pause right below Kurt's ear to stifle the sound of his laugh.

The two danced together through several songs, the swaying quickly giving leave to full-on grinding. By the time Kurt was ready for his second drink, Blaine was completely hard in his rather tight Bermuda shorts. Kurt, however, was barely hard at all, and Blaine cursed the alcohol.

As the bartender passed Kurt his second iced tea, a tall figure slunk up behind the eighteen-year-old. "Hey you."

Kurt whipped around so fast he knocked himself off balance. A large hand grabbed his elbow to keep him steady. When Kurt finally regained his senses, he looked up at the man who approached him and frowned. "You…you are _not_ going to seduce him tonight, you hear me? That's…that's _my_ job." He vaguely pointed in the direction of his chest. "You clear out."

Sebastian grinned. "Believe me, I fully understand that if I'm ever going to get into Blanderson's crazy-tight too-short jeans, I'm going to have to wait until he's both drunk and alone. But _you_, on the other hand…" Sebastian stepped closer. "I can wait until you're drunk enough that Zachary Quinto won't seem nearly as hot as—"

"Timon?"

Sebastian turned to find a glowering Blaine right behind him. "Well hey, Anderson. Looking good, as always. I'd be careful leaving a guy like this unattended—unsavory characters might try to…_take him_."

"Back. Away," Blaine growled, moving to wrap a protective arm around his boyfriend's waist. "If I don't want to have sex with you, you bet your _ass_ Kurt doesn't either."

"Yeah," Kurt piped up. "If I'm going to settle for someone with a tiny dick, he better be famous."

Blaine choked on the sip of soda he'd been taking.

Sebastian's lip curled upward. "Fine. I think I saw a willing _dance partner_ over by the jukebox. And this one actually looks like a _guy_." Sebastian stormed off, heading nowhere near the jukebox.

Kurt sagged against his boyfriend. "Okay…if this is what being drunk feels like, I definitely get why you wanted to have sex in the car last time."

Blaine's eyebrows shot up. "Oh _really_?"

"Mhm. I'm totally horny right now." He spun on the barstool to face Blaine, and squeeze the shorter boy's hips. "Seeing you get all hot and bothered like that…gets me hot and bothered."

Blaine smiled indulgently and kissed Kurt's forehead. "As much as it's actually killing me to say this, we're not having sex tonight."

Kurt whined. "Why _not_?"

Blaine brushed his lips right against Kurt's ear. "Because when I make love to you, I want you to remember it the next morning."

He smirked when a shiver ran down Kurt's spine. "C'mon, Blaine, _please_?"

With a sigh, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and dragged him out of the bar. Kurt stumbled after, attempting to simultaneously walk and kiss the back of Blaine's neck. When they finally reached the car, Blaine threw the back door open and tossed Kurt inside. "I'm going to finish what I started the last time we were here."

Kurt groaned. Blaine climbed atop him and slammed the door shut. Then he canted his hips downward to his aching hard-on crashed into Kurt's. The two moaned in sync, and Blaine scrambled with one hand to undo Kurt's multi-zippered jeans. "Again with the Chinese puzzle box jeans?" Blaine snarled. "It's almost as if you don't want me to get you off."

Kurt keened and tried to help Blaine shuck off his pants, but his drunken fingers only served to make the situation worse. Blaine managed to unzip the last fastening and yank the skintight jeans down to Kurt's knees. He groaned loudly when he discovered that Kurt wasn't wearing underwear. "You're killing me, babe."

"_Touch me_."

"Anything for the birthday boy."

Blaine licked his hand and wrapped it around Kurt's throbbing erection. He fisted fast and hard, enjoying Kurt's screwed-up expression of bliss. He slid as far back in the seat as he could and flicked his tongue over Kurt's slit, jumping at the unexpected screech Kurt released. He swallowed Kurt's cock whole, sucking as hard as he could to get Kurt off quickly—they were in a sketchy gay bar parking lot, after all, and for all Blaine knew, Sebastian's beady eyes could be pressed against a pair of binoculars, peering inside the foggy windows at their activities.

A few more licks and sucks and Kurt was coming like a freight train in Blaine's mouth. He slumped against the far door, panting heavily. "That…was…awesome…"

Blaine smirked, proud. "I know."

Kurt reached a limp hand outward. "Let me do you…"

Chuckling slightly, Blaine pushed Kurt's hand down. "You go to sleep. It's your birthday celebration. I'll drive us home."

"But you're hard."

"Trust me Kurt, this won't be the first time I've had to drive hard. I'll be fine."

"Mmkay."

Blaine used some Lima Bean napkins from the glovebox to clean Kurt up, and then gently tucked him back into his pants. He then buckled Kurt into the backseat as best he could while keeping the sleeping boy horizontal. Once Kurt was settled and snoring, Blaine climbed into the front and started the car. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he passed two figures pushed up against the side wall of the bar. He saw a guy on his knees, sucking—oh god, _Sebastian's dick_. Sebastian looked up as the car passed, and Blaine gave him a saucy wink as he drove his boyfriend home.

* * *

What's this? An update in the middle of the day? On a Friday? Less than twenty-four hours after the last update? No friends, you aren't hallucinating, this is real. It's Senior Skip Day and I'm one of the only seniors who didn't partake in this annual tradition (thanks, mother), I brought a laptop to school and wrote this badboy. I hope you enjoy it.

I was the only person in my AP Gov class today. Not even fucking kidding.

My friend's trying to read this over my shoulder. The last thing I need is someone reading my porn out loud in the fucking library.

That's all for now folks, see ya...some time.

**PERSONAL TUMBLR: **nothingbutgoneness**  
****FANFICTION TUMBLR: **kqwriting**  
****FANFICTION BANK TUMBLR: **klaineficneeds


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